Count's Youngest Son is a Warlock-Chapter 275: Final Preparations

“His Majesty has granted partial approval—on the condition that the priests of Nevast take the vanguard,” Heint replied, his expression still conflicted.

He had already realized that he had been caught up in Lucion’s plans, but it was far too late to back out now.

“Partial approval?” Lucion asked.

“The Empire has designated a specific area of land for them, where a barrier will be established. Anyone who attempts to escape will be cut down on the spot. Furthermore, their residency is only temporary—until the end of this battle,” Heint explained.

[If the battle drags on, it’s only natural that the Empire will prioritize protecting its own people,] Bethel remarked, agreeing with Ketlan’s decision.

“So, both the risks and the significance of the frontier will increase,” Lucion said with a grimace.

“Exactly. The frontier must now serve as both the first and final line of defense,” Heint stated bitterly.

After all, the Tesla Empire had always used the frontier as both its spear and shield for growth.

“Kran.”

After a brief moment of thought, Lucion called out.

“Yes, Hamel-nim?”

“I will purify the Sea of Death myself. In the meantime, gather all the warlocks and station them at each branch. Make sure everyone prepares for corruption.”

Under Stra’s leadership—the organization’s first barrier mage—more barrier mages had been recruited, and defenses were being established at the headquarters as well as at each branch.

Previously, to counter the Hand of the Void and the corrupted warlocks, they had aimed to create a more flexible barrier—one capable of containing everything.

As of now, it could only contain darkness.

But it was still incomplete.

However, he might be able to use it.

“Hamel-nim, you’re going to purify it? The entire sea?” Kran asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Yes. Didn’t I just tell you? I’ve become the King of Darkness.”

He had received the cloak bearing the mark of the King—so wasn’t he a king now?

“…”

Kran stared at Lucion, his eyes trembling.

The words sounded too surreal to believe.

But in the end, Kran bowed his head.

He believed in Lucion.

“I will move immediately.”

Kran rose from his seat, bowed, and left the room.

“Brother.”

Lucion hesitated for a moment.

Heint, sensing trouble, fidgeted with his fingers.

“Is it possible to meet His Majesty right now?”

“…Ha.”

Heint sighed.

He had expected this.

Of course, Lucion would bring this up in the middle of the night.

Yet, despite the absurdity of the request, Heint spoke with determination.

“I’ll try. Even if I have to submit another report, I’ll do it. Just trust me!”

Despite his confident words, sweat dripped down Heint’s forehead as he left the room.

Lucion almost wanted to applaud him sincerely.

Contacting the Emperor at this hour was practically the same as putting one’s neck on the line.

[I’ll follow him. Russell, as for you…]

Bethel had intended to trail after Heint but paused, laughing at Russell, whose forehead was still red.

[You still need more training to differentiate between doors and walls.]

“B-Bethel! It’s just a habit, I swear!”

[I know. You’ve simply grown too used to sticking your head through walls.]

Teasing Russell, Bethel demonstratively pushed her own head into the wall.

“Do you want me to teach you how to open a door?”

Seizing the opportunity, Lucion spoke up.

“A door, you see, is opened by gently grasping the handle—”

“Just go to sleep!”

“Teacher.”

Russell, who had just stood up, turned at Lucion’s call.

“What is it?”

“I met Lucion from the previous world.”

“…?”

“He asked me to tell you he’s sorry.”

Russell’s startled expression gradually hardened, sadness washing over him.

In the end, he had been unable to do anything for him.

He had let him go—alone—from the temple.

Even now, the memory of him staggering away, coughing up blood, was painfully vivid.

“Did he say… he was happy?”

Among the many questions swirling in his mind, that was the one Russell chose to ask.

His memories of the previous world had ended when he was engulfed by countless rays of light fired by the priests.

“…”

Lucion couldn’t answer.

“Lucion.”

“Yes?”

“If you meet him again… tell him not to say unnecessary things.”

Lucion chuckled at Russell’s characteristic response.

“Good night. I hope you have good and happy dreams tonight.”

Lucion said what he had been wanting to say to Russell all along.

It wasn’t something to say to a ghost who couldn’t sleep.

“Yeah, goodnight.”

Russell waved to Hume before leaving the room.

“Then, young master, please get some rest. I’ll stay by your side.”

“I’m fine now. You can return to your own room.”

Lucion petted Ratta but noticed Hume’s expression stiffen.

“Do you have something to say?”

Hume hesitated before nodding.

“Young master… you are a strong person.”

“I… am?”

Caught off guard by the sudden statement, Lucion looked surprised.

Hume chuckled softly.

“I’ve been waiting for the right moment to say this, and now I finally can.”

Before Asha disappeared, she had wished for his happiness.

That day, Hume had come to understand what true sorrow and death really meant.

And so, he had begun to reconsider the meaning of happiness.

The answer hadn’t taken long to find.

Happiness, he realized, had begun the moment Lucion found himself.

“As you know, young master, I had abandoned myself for a long time.”

If he had known that life could be both painful and beautiful, perhaps he would have mustered the courage to open that tiny door and step outside.

“You are my eternal master… and someone I am proud of.”

That was why he could respect Lucion.

Despite being trapped in his room, unable to even step outside. Despite knowing the world was repeating. Lucion had continued forward, shining like a bright star against the night—just as Ratta had said.

“Hume, you didn’t abandon yourself—you were simply gathering yourself.”

Hume remained silent under Lucion’s steady gaze.

Unlike before, there was now a quiet strength in his eyes, a presence that seemed to command those around him.

“And thanks to that, you’re now busier than ever, aren’t you?”

Lucion grinned.

“Once this is all over, I’ll give you a vacation.”

“What about you, young master?”

“Of course, I’ll rest too. When the time comes, I plan to do absolutely nothing for a while.”

“Understood. I will serve you well, so please rest as much as you wish.”

Hume smiled brightly, satisfied with Lucion’s response.

Lucion blinked in surprise.

“I’m giving you a vacation, you know.”

“It’s my choice how to use it.”

“Hah. I’ve never met someone who refuses a break before.”

“I never said I refused it.”

“…?”

Lucion nearly sat up in shock.

Hume?

‘Where did he pick up this kind of behavior? From Teacher?’

“I’m always watching over you, young master.”

“…”

Something about Hume’s words felt strangely unsettling, and Lucion instinctively pulled his blanket up.

No way.

* * *

‘I heard he was injured. He didn’t have to come.’

As Ketlan anxiously awaited Lucion’s arrival, he found himself repeatedly sipping his tea, his lips dry with unease.

The reports from Heint about what had happened in Nevast were shocking, making it impossible to get Lucion out of his mind.

Knock. Knock.

The sound of knocking pulled Ketlan from his thoughts.

As the door opened, Lucion stepped inside.

His gait was unnatural, different from usual.

Was it because of his injury?

“Your Majesty, please forgive this uninvited guest for seeking you at such a late hour. And I hope you have not punished Sir Heint Tria.”

Lucion bowed politely.

“Why do you call yourself an uninvited guest? Are you… badly hurt?”

Ketlan, feeling anxious, couldn’t help but ask.

“As you can see, I’m fine.”

“…”

Was that sarcasm?

Ketlan had to take a moment to process Lucion’s words.

“Your Majesty, I took the liberty of sending the warlocks away from the Sea of Death without your permission. Please forgive me for this.”

“Hasn’t ‘Evil’ appeared in Nevast? I doubt you acted without reason, so do not dwell on it.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Did you know about that evil beforehand?”

“Yes, I did.”

Lucion was prepared to face criticism for telling the truth, trusting in the rapport he had built thus far.

“Then can I assume you’ve come to see me because of this?”

“Yes.”

“Then why hesitate? Speak.”

Ketlan didn’t question how Lucion had learned about Veronia.

“…Will you not punish me?”

“Why would I?”

Something felt off.

Ketlan’s reaction was unusual—more than just mere kindness.

The Saint had been injured because of this incident.

Hearing that Hamel had known about Veronia in advance should have elicited at least some displeasure.

Yet, there was none.

Instead, Ketlan seemed more concerned about Lucion’s well-being—almost as if he himself were the Saint.

‘This isn’t like Ketlan at all. He’s even showing emotions.’

Lucion absentmindedly fiddled with his mask.

Ketlan’s shoulders trembled slightly.

‘Ha.’

Lucion subtly glanced at Bethel.

[From what I can see, Lord Lucion’s assumption seems to be correct.]

Even Bethel’s agreement made Lucion’s throat go dry.

‘I’m going crazy. When did he find out?’

His heartbeat quickened.

Lucion had no idea what was going through Ketlan’s mind.

Even worse, the dizziness still hadn’t fully subsided, making it harder to think as clearly as usual.

‘Is he planning to use this against me later… and stab me in the back?’

Lucion had built an organization in preparation for moments like this, yet his pounding heart refused to settle.

It felt as though more and more people were uncovering his true identity.

“Hamel? What’s wrong?”

Ketlan’s concern deepened as he noticed Lucion suddenly still, worried that he might be in pain.

What kind of expression was hidden behind that mask?

Was he frowning?

[Lord Lucion, it seems to me that His Majesty is genuinely worried about you,] Bethel said reassuringly.

[Perhaps he’s waiting for you to reveal your identity yourself?]

—Ah! So Emperor Uncle has figured out that Hamel is actually Lucion?

Ratta chimed in, slightly late to catch on.

[That certainly seems to be the case. Otherwise, this situation wouldn’t make any sense.]

—From what Ratta sees, Emperor Uncle is a good person! Ratta hopes he will pet me!

Hearing both Bethel and Ratta’s words, Lucion let out a long breath.

“I just felt a bit dizzy for a moment. My apologies, Your Majesty.”

“Feel free to lie down while we talk. What good is etiquette when human lives are at stake?”

Ketlan gestured seriously toward the bed.

“I’m fine, Your Majesty. I sincerely appreciate your concern.”

Lucion decided not to reject Ketlan’s emotions—emotions he could both see and feel firsthand.

He had already come to understand that his thoughts and reality often differed.

Summoning a bit more courage, he chose to trust Ketlan.

“The name of the enemy is Veronia.”

If Bethel was right, and Ketlan had indeed been waiting for him to reveal the truth on his own, then now was not the time to hesitate.

“He will reach the Empire first, overtaking Neubra in exchange for the Sea of Death.”

“I have received reports that the divine beasts’ barrier is currently active.”

“It won’t last long. There are neither intact divine beasts nor holy relics to sustain it.”

“Then what do you propose?”

“Everything lacking should be filled by the priests, shouldn’t it?”

The divine beasts had bestowed blessings upon them for so long—now it was time for repayment.

“You’re not suggesting sending the priests back to Nevast, are you?”

Ketlan’s eyebrows twitched before the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

“Are you suggesting we set a trap?”

“That’s right, Your Majesty. The most effective weapon against darkness is light. The priests from not just the Empire but also Nevast will gather, won’t they?”

Lucion let out a brief chuckle.

“And aside from Neubra, there’s also the kingdom of Myronist. It’s time they repaid the grace Your Majesty has shown them.”

“Draining them to the bone, are you? I like it.”

For the first time in a while, Ketlan smiled with satisfaction.

“Veronia will raise an army of undying soldiers and use them to strike at the Empire.”

If people saw such an army, their morale would surely crumble. Fighting against them would be a nightmare.

“As the saying goes, a rabid dog must be beaten down. Isn’t now the time? Your Majesty’s strength is needed.”

“If that is what you wish, then use me however you see fit. I owe you far too much.”

Ketlan had made his decision—he would protect both Lucion and Hamel.

What was there to hesitate about?

Lucion’s mask turned a faint shade of blue.

Feeling Ketlan’s sincerity, he expressed his gratitude, despite knowing that his true identity had been exposed.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

* * *

“…Ha.”

Lucion let out a deep breath as Russell gently patted him on the back.

The beach in front of the Sea of Death was completely deserted.

Kran had withdrawn the warlocks, and despite Ketlan’s assurance that he would contact the High Priest, even the priests were nowhere to be seen, as if they had been frightened away.

“Don’t worry. I am now completely free from constraints,” Russell said proudly.

“But Teacher, you have no resistance to light.”

—That’s right! Russell isn’t a ghost anymore!

Ratta, who had been playing with Hume in the sand, perked up excitedly.

[Now that the light will affect your physical body, Russell, how about eating Ratcho like Lord Lucion does?]

“That’s a good idea.”

Taking a deep breath, Lucion raised his voice slightly.

“As someone who has experienced it firsthand, I can tell you that coughing up blood is a bit rough, but the rest isn’t so bad. Once you get used to it, it actually tastes pretty good and gives you strength.”

As Russell and Bethel’s expressions twisted in discomfort, Lucion resisted the urge to compare Ratcho to red ginseng.

They wouldn’t understand the reference anyway.

“So, should I laugh now?”

Hume, who had been meticulously building a perfectly structured sand fortress, quietly asked.

“I wasn’t telling the story to make you laugh, though.”

At Lucion’s response, Hume’s fingers twitched slightly, causing the sand fortress to crumble.

—Hop!

Ratta’s eyes widened in shock as she looked at the collapsed sand.

—T-that was Ratta’s… Ratta’s…

“The one you built is over here.”

Hume glanced at Lucion with a questioning look as he pointed to a nearby pile of sand, filled with Ratta’s tiny paw prints.