Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 308

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 78.
Finding the Cat in the Furnace (27)
“Being renowned as a strong warrior means enduring countless challenges. But look at the three you mentioned—they’re all wielding formidable power that commoners can scarcely approach. How many would dare challenge them to a duel? Would pompous nobles do such a thing among themselves? Princess Jinapa, judging by the culture of the Lemme Royal Palace where they constantly test themselves against one another, undoubtedly possesses considerable skill. Her achievements in the Elbe Battle prove as much. Yet I cannot deny that her powerful position as the king’s sister played a role. And then there’s Durgana of Bronze Lightning—now that’s the problem, because I’ve faced him myself in direct combat.”
Maximian watched as confidence bloomed across the man’s face, waiting for whatever he would say next.
“I don’t know how he was in his youth, but now he’s truly aged. If it hadn’t been a place where I needed to maintain appearances, I would have finished it in mere minutes.”
“Does that mean you’re stronger than them?”
“Why, don’t you believe it? There are plenty of ways to prove it, but since I’m carrying precious spoils in my arms right now, it’s inconvenient at the moment… I should finish my story about Kangpir Marquis. That man is all bluff. I don’t even need to fight him to know that. Yes, I should tell you about that. The last Silverskull, you see.”
Maximian also knew that Silverskull was a continental sword tournament that began in the Rugran Kingdom, open only to those between fifteen and twenty years old. Of course, since he’d never learned the sword, it held no interest for him, and that was all he knew.
“Kangpir Marquis’s son competed in Silverskull until last year. Four consecutive victories, so the gossips wouldn’t shut up about how he’d finally achieve a five-time championship that year. I went to watch it myself, naturally. Well, in the end, it wasn’t entirely without reward. Ah, have you heard the rumors?”
“What rumors?”
“About last year’s Silverskull champion.”
The man, absorbed in his own story, continued at a leisurely pace. There was nothing urgent about him. Though Maximian knew nothing, he made an educated guess and spoke.
“I gather Kangpir Marquis’s son didn’t win the championship.”
“That’s right. He didn’t win. In the finals, he was utterly humiliated by some unknown boy. In all my years watching Silverskull finals, I’ve never seen such a pathetic match. He was coasting along, then got completely overwhelmed, and it just ended. How he managed to win the previous four matches was utterly baffling. Meanwhile, the champion used the strangest swordsmanship. I’m still curious about that boy’s identity.”
It seemed like a good time to raise a counterpoint.
“A son’s skill can’t be the measure of a father’s ability.”
“Nonsense. That boy isn’t just any student—he’s the disciple Kangpir Marquis proudly boasts of and trains. To have taught him only that much by his age, what kind of continental master is he? Besides, it’s been years since Kangpir Marquis last displayed his skills publicly. Once he became a court marquis, he got caught up in vanity and just grew fat. Otherwise, to solidify his position earned through swordsmanship, he would have demonstrated his skills frequently before people.”
“Then who exactly are these strong ones you acknowledge? Do they even exist?”
“Oh, they exist indeed.”
The man’s face broke into a satisfied smile.
“Though Sigonu the Barbarian is often mentioned alongside those three, he’s on a different level. Since I haven’t seen him directly, I’ll reserve judgment, but I can’t dismiss the possibility that people’s fear of the Barbarians gave him a halo effect. Still, his record in the Elbe Battle is nearly miraculous, so let’s acknowledge him for now.”
“That’s all?”
“Well, after that, even if I tell you, you probably won’t know who they are anyway.”
He knew that if he waited a bit longer, the man would spill everything anyway.
“When people think of outstanding warriors, they usually think of Lemme Military or Recordable Mercenaries, but in the Assassins’ World I belong to, those from Trabaches are considered unquestionably the best. Whether it’s because their country is so developed in factional strife and intrigue, or if it’s just their nature, but they’re all meticulous, cruel, and fast. In other words, the finest. Among them, if you mention ‘the Tailor,’ everyone backs down just at the name. He’s the only man in this field I truly acknowledge. However, being from Trabaches, he has a lord he serves with absolute obedience and doesn’t take private commissions. So I’ve rarely crossed paths with him. And let me see… yes, there’s him.”
The man’s lips moved side to side beneath his mask as if recalling a pleasant memory.
“He’s a truly nameless swordsman. I met him only once by chance in the Belcruze Region. Neither he nor I had any reason to fight, and since we both concealed our true strength and were just playing around at a countryside festival, our crossing blades was nothing more than a light wager. But after that one encounter, neither of us wanted to touch the other again. To be honest… I had no confidence in a direct confrontation. Me, of all people. That’s when I truly felt that there are many hidden masters in this world. That’s why I’m saying such things now.”
As the explanation was drawing to a close, Maximian’s mind worked to formulate a response.
“Then where do you rank among them?”
The man didn’t answer immediately, instead smiling as he fidgeted with his empty teacup. This kind of conversation seemed to be exactly the sort of game he enjoyed.
“Strength is a serious matter. My words might sound like the idle chatter of gossips, but I’ve never taken this matter lightly. So, you asked where I stand? I can say this with certainty: I am stronger than anyone else.”
“No, how can you be so sure of that?”
That was when it happened.
Woof!
A dog’s bark rang out, and Caesar’s large hunting dog burst into the dining hall. It had seemed so docile until now that he’d doubted it was truly a hunting dog, but its attack was swift as lightning, belying that impression. The dog lunged toward its target in a single bound, leaping up to tear at the seated man’s throat. Everything that followed happened in an instant.
The man thrust out his right hand, seizing the dog’s throat. With his other hand steadying himself, a clear snapping sound echoed through the dining hall.
Crack.
There were no unnecessary movements. With minimal motion, he subdued the dog—a creature the size of an adult—and released it. The dog with its broken neck convulsed on the floor for a moment.
…
While Maximian stood speechless, the man adjusted his gloves and muttered under his breath.
“My hands were made for strangling necks. It’s what suits them best, what comes most naturally. The only exception would be those four-legged beasts—they scratch your clothes to shreds with their front paws while their breath dies. When you’re wearing a suit ordered from Keltika, it’s truly exasperating. Ah yes, what were we discussing? Right, you asked why I’m the strongest. It’s rather obvious, so somewhat tedious to explain, but it’s not something I can’t articulate.”
The dog’s movements ceased. Saliva dripped from its gaping mouth, slowly dampening the floorboards. Maximian clenched his molars and deliberately kept his gaze fixed on the man, refusing to look away.
“It may seem strange to claim certain victory in a world where life and death are separated by the thinnest margin. True enough. If all of them and I were to compete in something like Silverskull, I couldn’t guarantee my victory. But if we were to meet on the streets rather than in an arena, there’s no one who could do anything to me. If the back alleys that the nobility couldn’t even find are the true gladiatorial arena of infinite competition, then I am undoubtedly its victor. Curious why? What do you think the reason might be?”
Maximian could guess the answer, but deliberately said nothing. It was always best to let such words come from the man’s own mouth. As expected, seeing Maximian’s silence, the man’s entire face moved in a soundless laugh.
“Because I am more contemptible than anyone else, because I spare no means or methods, because I know nothing of honor. Do you think fair duels exist in the arena of reality? If necessary, I would secretly damage his armor, hide his weapons, drive a dagger into his horse’s belly, dredge up his most painful past, cut the throat of the woman he loves and show it to him—all to break my opponent and claim victory. The only standard I follow is my own satisfaction, and my appreciation for something well-crafted. An exquisite assassination, and a victim worthy of it.”
As he spoke, the man glanced at Joshua, whose eyes remained closed.
“Talent is rare, genius is precious. Demonic, demonic—I was curious about what exactly that meant, and it proved genuinely fascinating. A gem of this caliber naturally makes me want to shatter it with my own hands, doesn’t it? Whether to use my own hands or someone else’s—I’ve been conversing with you all this time to discover that, and it’s turned out to be far more enjoyable than I anticipated.”
Maximian silently glanced at the dead dog. Hands capable of breaking a neck like that would kill someone like Joshua as easily as snapping a toothpick.
“No response? Entertaining dark thoughts? Having heard this much, you can certainly imagine—if I were to let you slip away, your family would not survive my hands. It’s only natural logic: to catch the rider, you must shoot the horse.”
The man paused there, fell silent for a moment, then spoke again.
“Someone is approaching from outside the window. Likely the owner of this house. Why come through the window instead of the door? You must have sensed something amiss?”
At that moment, Maximian suddenly spoke loudly.
“Do you believe in the existence of ghosts?”
Simultaneously, Joshua, whom they thought had lost consciousness, reached out and grasped the man’s right hand. Maximian, who had been anticipating this, wore a dumbfounded expression, while the man looked down with something like contempt. Then, once more, the sound of breaking bone crackled through the air. A sharp snap.
Children of the Runes – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 14 Months Books
The copyright to this book belongs to the author and 14 Months Books.
To reuse all or part of this book’s contents, written consent from both parties is required.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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