Limited Extra Time - Chapter 127

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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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Leaving Millaiyen behind, Carina descended the staircase leading to the basement with careful steps.

No matter how much Periel had requested to use the basement as his laboratory, the path down was shrouded in darkness and the atmosphere felt oppressive.

‘…Does he really come and go from this desolate place alone every day?’

Carina clicked her tongue inwardly. It was far too dreary to traverse by oneself.

She walked carefully toward the room where light seeped through the opening, tilting her head slightly through the ajar doorway as she spoke.

“Periel?”

“C-Carina?”

Periel, who had been working on something at a desk tucked away in the corner, startled and rose from his seat.

He set down the syringe he had been holding

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and offered an awkward smile.

“What brings you here?”

“I’ve never really visited before, and… I came down here to escape from Millaiyen.”

Periel rose from the desk cluttered with various medicines and flasks. He approached with long strides and began retrieving a teapot and teacup, starting to boil water.

“Please, sit here.”

Periel spoke to Carina, who stood uncertainly. She

gave a light nod and seated herself at the table.

Watching Periel move about busily, Carina swung her legs lightly.

“So, what were you working on?”

“I was researching Haron.”

“Haron…? What kind of research?”

“It seems Haron nullifies the miracles of art.”

Carina Leopold’s head tilted at Periel’s words.

“Nullifies?”

As she murmured softly, Periel, who had returned to his seat after taking tea, nodded.

“You mentioned before that Haron possesses a power that prevents miracles from occurring, even when art is perfected. I was conducting experiments on that very matter.”

The part about wanting to inject it into his own veins—Periel quietly swallowed those words. He couldn’t even fathom how angry she would become if he revealed that.

With an unusual expression, he poured tea into his cup and sat across from Carina Leopold.

“Have you heard that Count Leopold was expelled?”

“I heard he was sent away. They say he was sent off with gold coins as well.”

At Carina Leopold’s words, Periel’s expression became peculiar. He turned his head with a meaningful smile.

He hesitated for a moment as if deliberating, then lowered his voice and leaned forward—

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—and bowed.

“Is that all Millaiyen said?”

“Yes, was there something else that happened?”

“It seems you didn’t hear that he was dragged away at dawn.”

“Dragged…away?”

Periel let out a low chuckle.

It was a sight I happened upon by chance, thanks to my recent habit of staying up through the night.

Millaiyen had come down before dawn and personally commanded his direct knights.

He sent the knights to the Annex Building and dragged out Count Leopold and his heir. The two men, torn from their sleep, looked absolutely disheveled.

Periel recalled the events of that early morning.

“Ugh… What is the meaning of this discourtesy, Duke Pestellio!”

“Father! Are you unharmed? Duke, what is this outrageous behavior…!”

Millaiyen drew his sword without a word and drove it straight into the ground. The blade, thrust into earth hardened overnight, seemed to have sunk so deep it would not come free easily.

Millaiyen silently placed his palm upon the pommel.

Periel, who had spotted Millaiyen from a distance and followed, leaned against a nearby wall. His long hair swayed at his waist in the cool dawn breeze. He watched the unfolding scene with a light yawn.

“Did you sleep well?”

“What…”

“Yes, I’m glad you slept well.

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Now then, leave.

Millaiyen cut off Infrick’s attempt to protest. His tone suggested he had never expected an answer in the first place. He was simply saying what he had to say.

Infrick’s mouth fell open at the blunt dismissal. Regardless, Millaiyen continued.

“I gave you shelter for one night. It’s morning now, and this is my house. Leave.”

“What… What did you say?”

Infrick asked in apparent bewilderment. As Millaiyen exhaled a low sigh, Infrick clenched his fists.

He knew better than anyone how utterly discourteous this was.

“What on earth are you saying at this ungodly hour!”

With a sharp whistle of air being cleaved, the scabbard in Millaiyen’s left hand came perilously close to grazing Infrick’s jaw.

The gap was so narrow that barely a sheet of paper could slip through. Infrick’s eyes widened.

“Ugh….”

“If Carina Leopold wakes up, know that you won’t be walking out of here.”

Millaiyen spoke in a low, savage voice.

Infrick, trembling, reached toward the blade with his hand, then clenched his teeth and carefully withdrew it.

As if amused, Millaiyen’s pupils relaxed. He let out a cold laugh and tilted his head lightly.

“Draw it.”

“What….”

“If you wound me even once with that blade, I’ll grant you whatever you desire. You can stay here as long as you wish. Or I won’t object if you take Carina Leopold away.”

Millaiyen’s eyes gleamed. His crimson gaze flashed dangerously through the dawn mist. Infrick swallowed hard.

“I’m not asking you to win. All you need do is touch my body with that blade just

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once. Even if I’m gravely wounded, I will never lodge a complaint. I swear it on the Pestellio Family name.”

…Truly?

Of course.

Millaiyen spoke with his teeth bared.

Periel Kalos clicked his tongue inwardly at those gleaming eyes. Had he been in Infrick’s position, he would have simply turned tail and fled.

Millaiyen rarely spoke so sweetly. In other words, he was furious beyond measure.

Infrick hesitated before carefully grasping the hilt of his sword. Count Leopold, watching from beside him, seized Infrick’s wrist.

Do not do this, Infrick.

Father, I cannot simply abandon Carina and leave. Even if I cannot win, surely the blade need only touch him once.

Infrick spoke with grim resolve.

Periel’s lips twisted upward as he watched—a hollow laugh devoid of warmth.

‘How terrifying ignorance can be.’

As Periel contemplated this, Infrick finally wrenched free from Count Leopold’s grip and drew his sword. Rather than pulling the blade from the ground, Millaiyen shifted the scabbard from his left hand to his right.

What… are you doing?

Infrick’s expression grew fierce.

It was an insult to a Knight. Holding the scabbard instead of the blade was an act of contempt toward one’s opponent.

Millaiyen tilted his head slightly.

A minor disadvantage.

I need no such handicap!

You will need it. A blade would be… inconvenient.

Millaiyen murmured softly.

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Periel, grasping the meaning of that murmur without difficulty, regarded Infrick with a pitying expression.

Millaiyen wielding the scabbard instead of the blade meant…

‘He will have difficulty walking away from this.’

Periel leaned his back against the wall as the thought settled upon him.

Feeling insulted, Infrick tightened his grip on the sword. Millaiyen hadn’t even assumed a proper stance.

Millaiyen let his hand holding the scabbard hang loosely at his side, making no effort to adopt a fighting posture.

He hung his clenched fist down and didn’t even bother to assume a proper stance.

“Go ahead and attack first.”

Infrick’s jaw clenched at Millaiyen’s overflowing composure.

He charged forward with his sword drawn. Millaiyen, his expression bored, casually blocked the incoming blade with his scabbard using only one hand.

“Aaagh!”

The sharply honed blade clashed against the smoothly carved scabbard. Millaiyen deflected the sword with ease and swung his arm down, striking Infrick’s shoulder in one fluid motion.

“Ugh!”

A cry escaped through gritted teeth, and his lips curved into an arc. Millaiyen smiled lightly.

It was the lightest and most refreshing smile Infrick had seen since they’d met, and for a moment, he stood dazed.

In that instant, Millaiyen’s eyes gleamed with intensity.

was.

Immediately, Millaiyen gripped the scabbard with renewed force and began swinging it wildly.

“Ugh! Argh! Ack! Gaah!”

“Duke Pestellio, please stop!”

“I don’t want to.”

“Huh…?”

Count Leopold’s mouth fell open at the crude, unrefined voice—the kind you’d hear from a street thug in a back alley.

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Millaiyen turned his head back and began swinging his sword sheath even faster, as if to prove a point.

“Aaagh! Ugh! Gah…! Hah…, Ack!”

Even as I watched Infrick being beaten so savagely he could barely form words, I remained motionless.

The moment I tried to move, Millaiyen would swing his arm with even greater ferocity.

Whenever Infrick so much as opened his mouth to speak, Millaiyen would time his strikes perfectly against the injured spots, leaving him unable to utter a coherent word.

Periel clicked his tongue and shook his head in disapproval.

Infrick’s sword finally clattered to the ground.

Millaiyen, who had been swinging his sheath toward Infrick’s thigh, halted the blow just before it made contact.

Infrick, who had braced himself for another wave of pain, cautiously lifted his head.

“You dropped your sword. Pick it up.”

“I’ve lost….”

Millaiyen cast a sidelong glance at Infrick as he tried to speak, clicked his tongue, and bent down.

He retrieved the blade rolling across the ground and pressed it directly into Infrick’s hand.

“I’ve lost…, Hnngh!”

“You haven’t lost. You’re still standing.”

What followed was nothing short of devastating. Even when Infrick rolled across the ground,

Millaiyen grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back to his feet, pressing the sword into his hands once more.

His entire body was caked in dirt and dust, his face and limbs swollen and bruised a sickly purple, yet Millaiyen did not relent.

“Your Grace! Please, I beg you, stop this now!”

Millaiyen’s beating, disguised as a sparring match, continued until Count Leopold—proud and dignified—fell to his knees and bowed his head.

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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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