The Lord Who Levels Up by Devouring - Chapter 6

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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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Chapter 6. The Wastrel of Count Whitewolf’s House (1)
The blizzard that had threatened to engulf the world began to subside.
Life extinguished by the merciless cold became a desolate illusion, leaving only cruelty in the Northern Snowfield.
Beneath the pristine landscape of the snowy plain.
Hair as dark as pitch stood out unmistakably.
The soldiers watching from atop the castle walls recognized him instantly.
Those with black hair were rare across the Continent, and his strikingly handsome features were impossible for any soldier of Count’s Castle to overlook.
“W-what should we do, Captain of the Guard?”
The Captain of the Guard responded with unwavering resolve.
“Do not let him through.”
“But… Adrian is-.”
“I know.”
Adrian, the eldest son of House Whitewolf.
The master of this castle.
Refusing entry to the master would disrupt the order of the territory—yet.
“The previous Count never acknowledged Adrian until the very end.”
Adrian, the wastrel of Count Whitewolf’s House.
His very existence disrupts the order of the territory.
Considering all the outrages and scandals he would commit upon his return, this decision was far from wrong.
“Sir Kai also commanded that Adrian not be admitted into the castle.”
Kai, the chief knight of House Whitewolf.
At merely twenty years of age, Kai had risen to become the greatest force in Whitewolf Territory.
A knight of prodigious talent destined to become a Master-class warrior.
Even the Royal Guard had extended offers to this genius among geniuses.
The previous Count had trusted Kai far more than Adrian.
Thus, Kai’s standing within Count’s Castle was overwhelming.
Especially among soldiers bound by strict hierarchy, Kai’s orders carried the same weight as the lord’s own—.
“Understood.”
The soldiers nodded immediately at the mention of Kai’s name.
And at that very moment.
“Open it.”
A sharp voice rang out from behind.
Turning to look.
A man approached with steady, purposeful strides.
“The Steward!”
The soldiers saluted in unison.
The Steward took his place before the Captain of the Guard.
“Open the castle gate.”
“B-but….”
“Adrian is the legitimate heir of House Whitewolf. He is the young lord of this territory.”
“But the will left by the previous Count—”
“The Royal Court’s decree has not yet arrived. Until the Royal Court formally recognizes the previous Count’s will, Adrian retains the authority of the legitimate heir.”
“….”
“I said to open the Castle Gate immediately.”
The Captain of the Guard bit his lower lip.
The head steward acquires the status of “Lord’s Proxy” in times of emergency.
And now that the previous Count had passed away.
Until the next Lord was confirmed, the head steward became the Lord’s Proxy.
“…I understand.”
The Captain of the Guard reluctantly opened the tightly sealed Castle Gate.
* * *
Crrrrreak!
The Castle Gate, constructed from thick timber, groaned open with a thunderous sound.
The gate opened slowly and without resistance.
I tilted my head without thinking.
“Surprisingly little opposition?”
There was no opposition at all, in fact.
Honestly, I had expected them to refuse outright.
No one in the House Whitewolf had any affection for me, the family’s wastrel.
Even Father’s will designated Seraphia instead of me, leaving me as nothing but a useless burden to the family.
I was merely the legitimate heir by blood alone.
I was nothing but a wastrel without authority or standing.
I had even steeled myself for a confrontation with the soldiers.
“If I’d known it would be this easy, I should have just come straight here.”
I had suffered needlessly leveling up in that blizzard-swept Frozen Peak.
After a brief moment, the Castle Gate opened completely.
The snow accumulated on the gate scattered and fell, momentarily obscuring my vision.
After an artificial flurry passed—
A man walked out from beyond the Castle Gate.
A man in a neat, immaculate black suit.
He appeared to be in his mid-to-late thirties.
His collar was arranged with meticulous precision, not a thread out of place.
His well-groomed reddish-brown hair was slicked back perfectly.
Even the smallest oversight seemed intolerable to him—his character was evident in his appearance.
“I shall escort you inside.”
His low, gentle voice carried almost no emotion.
It was a face I remembered.
One of the household staff of House Whitewolf.
His name was probably….
“What’s your name?”
…I couldn’t quite remember.
The man’s eyebrows twitched at my question.
Well, from his perspective, it had only been about a week since I’d abandoned the House.
Frankly, I must have seemed no different from a goldfish to him.
Perhaps even worse than a goldfish.
Still, the man quickly composed himself and answered.
“Bernard.”
“Bernard?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bernard… Bernard….”
Even hearing the name, I couldn’t quite place it.
It had been over fifteen years since I’d severed ties with the House—what did I expect?
Moreover, my memories had been severely stained and corrupted by the war with The Emperor, leaving me with virtually nothing about the House.
Yet hearing the name directly, a few hazy recollections surfaced.
If this memory was correct….
“Bernard Neville?”
“Yes, sir.”
Bernard bowed his head lightly as he answered.
Even in that simple gesture of respect, there was a sharpness rivaling that of a knight.
That disciplined bearing allowed me to recall a few more details.
‘He was the chief steward, wasn’t he?’
A chief steward held a position equivalent to a ‘lord’s regent’—a weighty responsibility. Thus, both ability and lineage were carefully considered.
In that sense, Bernard was a ‘noble.’
And nobles of that ilk valued rules and propriety above all.
Particularly, they had a strong tendency to obsess over bloodlines, which caused no end of headaches in the early days of forming the Allied Forces.
Incompetent fools with voices as loud as ogres.
In any case, Bernard was of that breed of noble.
A principlist who valued rules and propriety more than anyone.
Yet one who possessed ‘competence’ as well.
That’s why Father trusted him, and despite his youth, Father appointed Bernard to the position of chief steward.
‘He was the only one in the House who took my side.’
Not because he viewed me favorably.
It was because it was ‘principle.’
The succession of high nobility of Count rank or above, if inherited by someone other than the legitimate heir, required the Royal Court’s permission under royal decree.
House Whitewolf was a high noble of ‘Count’ rank.
In other words, until the Royal Court recognized Father’s will, I retained the authority of the legitimate heir.
‘Well, it’s only a matter of time anyway.’
Father’s will was certainly not forged.
Father left everything of the House to Seraphia, not to me.
Therefore, there was no right I could reclaim.
What could I possibly gain when the household servants have already turned their backs on me?
That’s why I left the family in my previous life.
It was no different now.
I hadn’t returned to reclaim some hollow right as the eldest son.
‘Until Ian returns.’
I intended to remain in the family only until then.
And I intended to keep Seraphia alive only until then as well.
More precisely, I needed to understand why Ian regretted killing Seraphia.
After hearing that reason, I would decide Seraphia’s fate.
What if the reason was trivial?
What if Ian killed her simply because he had feelings for her?
Of course, that would never be the case with Ian.
As the Hero of the Continent and Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces, Ian would not regret killing Seraphia for such a petty reason.
I could stake my life on this.
There must be a ‘rational reason’ for Ian to regret killing Seraphia.
However, there was no guarantee that reason would be one I could accept.
And if it were a reason I could not accept?
I would kill Seraphia without hesitation.
So there was no need, no reason to cling to such a hollow right as the eldest son.
What mattered now was a force to oppose the Imperial Army.
And the power to stand against the Emperor.
“I have cleaned the room thoroughly. I shall bring your meals to your chamber as usual. Please rest comfortably.”
I called out to Bernard as he turned to leave.
“No. Bring my meals somewhere else, not to my room.”
* * *
The Captain of the Guard stood rigid, his face and expression stiff.
Kai’s eyes brightened as he opened his mouth.
“Did I not tell you absolutely no one was to be let inside?”
The Captain of the Guard then straightened to an even more rigid stance, military discipline evident in every line of his body.
Kai asked the Captain of the Guard with a coldly set face and expression.
“Then what was your reason for letting him in?”
“That is… the Chief Steward gave me the order, so I had no choice.”
“The Chief Steward, you say?”
It happened the moment Kai’s question arose.
“I brought Adrian inside.”
Bernard walked from the direction of the Lord’s Residence within the Count’s Castle.
His gait was flawless, without a single misstep.
One could not tell whether he was a steward or a knight.
“Welcome, Seraphia.”
Bernard bowed his head respectfully toward Seraphia.
She was addressed not as Count or Lord, but as Seraphia.
Bernard treated her not as the future lord, but as the eldest daughter of House Whitewolf.
That was the principle.
Therefore, Bernard’s actions were justified.
The procedure itself was entirely proper.
If anything, it was Kai’s attempt to obstruct Adrian that constituted an overreach without justification.
As Kai’s gaze fell downward, Seraphia tilted her head curiously and asked.
“But Bernard, Chief Steward. What is that you’re holding?”
A covered tray rested in Bernard’s hands.
Bernard lifted the lid to reveal its contents.
A perfectly roasted turkey, golden-brown and glistening.
“A meal to be brought to Adrian.”
Kai’s eyes flickered with sudden intensity.
Turkey was a precious ingredient.
The sort of dish served only at festivals or commemorative occasions.
Especially here in the Northern Snowfield, it was a rarity so precious that even such celebrations rarely featured it.
Kai’s fists clenched with an audible crack.
Not only had Adrian returned to the family, but upon his arrival he was already squandering the territory’s precious provisions—it was unbearable.
“Where is he?”
Kai demanded Adrian’s whereabouts from Bernard.
Ordinarily, Adrian should have been confined to his quarters.
Because every time he ventured outside, he committed some atrocity, the previous Count had locked Adrian away in his room.
But the previous Count had passed away mere days ago.
The one who restrained Adrian’s excesses was gone.
Perhaps Adrian had already extorted funds from the territory’s coffers under the guise of his birthright and gone gambling.
Or perhaps he was harassing the women within the territory.
Or causing trouble at taverns.
Or beating the territorial subjects for having an unfortunate appearance.
Or intimidating them, demanding they not dare look him in the eye.
Or imprisoning innocent subjects for the crime of disrespecting him.
Or committing indiscriminate violence in the streets while drunk, destroying market stalls, and countless other atrocities.
All the outrages Adrian had perpetrated thus far.
My teeth were already grinding.
And sure enough.
“Adrian is not at the Lord’s Residence.”
Adrian was not at the Lord’s Residence.
I was one step too late.
I found myself clenching my teeth with a sharp sound.
Adrian had to die.
In a sense, it was driving a blade into my liege’s back as a knight.
But it was a necessary measure.
No—it was something I had to do.
It was precisely when a thick murderous intent rose above Kai’s blue eyes.
“Adrian is currently at the Frost Trial Grounds.”
“…Pardon?”
At Bernard’s answer, Kai’s expression momentarily went slack with bewilderment.

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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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