ICS - Chapter 107: Mason

The intermittent footsteps revealed the confusion in the heart of whoever made them.

But in only an instant, those footsteps became firm again, even hurried, and came straight toward Roland.

The first moment he heard the strange sound, Roland's body tensed.

He silently drew the mithril longsword at his waist, the blade gleaming coldly in the gloom.

Tracy hovered behind him, her gaze bright and fixed firmly on the direction of the sound.

The next moment, the sparse bushes were pushed aside.

Within the heavy fog, a humanoid outline appeared.

Then came a clear voice carrying hesitation.

"Sorry to disturb you, but may I ask... are you alive?"

As he spoke, the figure raised both hands above his head and stopped about five steps from Roland.

Yet even at such close range, the milk-white fog still blurred his face. Roland could only judge from his voice that he was male.

Although the other party did not seem malicious, Roland's vigilance did not lessen in the slightest.

He gripped his sword hilt tightly and replied in a low voice, "I think... compared to those drifting wraiths, I at least still have some warmth."

Hearing Roland's answer, the figure clearly let out a breath of relief.

He still kept both hands raised, his feet shifting forward tentatively, and his tone suddenly became anxious.

"Please don't worry, sir! I mean no harm! But you have to leave here with me quickly!"

Before his words had fully fallen, the figure let out a muffled groan.

And as the distance narrowed, Roland's brow tightened at once.

A delicate face, short dark-green hair, skin pale almost to transparency, and...

the dense fluctuation of Negative Energy within his body.

Roland recognized this face.

It was the young man who had stood beside that noble youth from the River Kingdoms when they boarded at Far Harbor, Leon.

No...

Thinking of the information he had happened to overhear while heading to Trevor's banquet, Roland narrowed his eyes.

Perhaps he should call him...

Mason.

The son of Baron Gavin, who had colluded with the Church of Truth and tried to murder King Morne.

"It's you..."

Mason cried out softly, then cut himself off like he had bitten his tongue.

He cleared his throat, concealed that instant of loss of composure, and anxiously took another step closer.

"This... sir, night may fall at any moment. Staying in the wild is extremely dangerous!"

His gaze swept quickly over Roland's hand gripping the sword hilt, but there was no panic on his face.

"Please, you must come with me! My current shelter can withstand attacks from the monsters in the mist!"

Before he could finish, and before Roland could respond, an icy stabbing sensation pierced Roland's dissipating mental power and sounded a frantic warning.

Within the viscous fog around them, more shadowy outlines radiating harsh cold quietly emerged.

At the same time, from the originally dead forest and nearby swamp, rustling crawling sounds and heavy dragging noises rose.

They came from far to near, surrounding them layer by layer.

Seeing this sudden change, the anxiety on Mason's face instantly turned to fear.

"Please trust me, sir! I swear on my life..."

His voice trembled from urgency.

"I understand."

Roland nodded. In his heart, he had already finished weighing the situation in an instant.

Although Mason's motives remained a mystery, the battle just now had already proven that sleeping in the wild in this dangerous region covered by mist was no different from seeking death.

Even if he suspected the other party might have set a trap, a known shelter was still better than groping hopelessly alone through this darkness.

As for traps...

Roland's fingertip silently tapped the cold sword hilt once.

"Then..."

His voice was low, his gaze sharp.

"I'll trouble you to lead the way."

Hearing Roland agree, the rather thin noble youth let out a long breath of relief.

He paid no mind to Roland's cold gaze examining his neck and kept his hands raised to show he meant no harm.

Then he turned first, hurriedly stepping into the thicker fog ahead.

Seeing this, Roland exchanged a glance with Tracy, then moved forward and followed closely behind Mason.

What was difficult to understand was that the wraiths that had actively attacked Roland earlier now merely wandered around them, wary of something, always maintaining a certain distance.

Even stranger, the monsters around them that made all kinds of noises also seemed unable to detect their traces because of this "curtain" formed by the wraiths.

They walked in silence the entire way.

Before long, under Mason's lead, a desolate town shrouded in deathly stillness entered their sight.

Broken walls and ruins appeared and disappeared within the heavy fog. Crooked houses stood like the bones of sleeping giant beasts.

The streets were empty, silent and dead. Only peeling walls and shattered window lattices spoke of the past.

After crossing the empty streets, Mason soon led Roland to a somewhat dilapidated yet unusually tall house.

"Please..."

After stopping, perhaps out of habit, Mason stood to the side and gestured with his arm, indicating that Roland should enter first.

But when he noticed that the wariness on the young man's face had not lessened at all, and that his feet did not move, he gave a helpless, bitter smile. He could only step forward himself, push open the door, and walk inside.

As the door opened, the scene inside the house entered Roland's eyes.

The furnishings were extremely plain, and the layout was unusually simple.

Merely standing at the doorway, Roland could take in the entire interior.

After probing and sensing repeatedly and confirming there was nothing suspicious, Roland looked toward Tracy behind him.

Seeing the Pixie also shake her head to indicate it was safe, he followed Mason's figure and stepped inside.

Creak...

With the groan of rotten wood rubbing together, the door closed behind them.

In the fireplace at the center of the room, flames burned brightly.

Firewood crackled, and warmth immediately drove away the damp chill brought by the heavy fog.

"Please sit."

Seeming to further dispel Roland's wariness, Mason gestured with his hand, then, within Roland's line of sight, took clean water and placed tea leaves into a teapot.

Before long, the fragrance of tea drifted out, and a cup of hot tea was pushed in front of Roland.

"This... sir, please."

Roland thanked him softly but did not immediately touch the cup.

Only now, under the flickering firelight of the hearth, did Mason notice Tracy floating behind Roland with half her head poking out.

"What... what is that?"

He blurted the question, his voice full of surprise.

"Hey! You're really rude!"

Hearing how Mason referred to her, Tracy immediately gave an annoyed snort.

"S-sorry, this... miss..."

Looking at the slightly trembling butterfly wings behind the Pixie, Mason instinctively retreated two steps, then turned his gaze toward the young man sitting in the old chair.

Roland's gaze was also locked tightly onto his face at this moment.

Noticing Roland's sharp scrutiny, Mason somewhat uneasily scratched his cheek and asked softly, "Is... is something wrong, sir?"

"No..."

Roland's knuckles tapped the sword hilt rhythmically, and his low voice sounded.

"I'm grateful for your help..."

Only after repeatedly confirming that there were indeed no traces of monsters or wraiths moving around this house did he speak.

"Mr. Mason."

As Roland's words fell, the room sank into suffocating silence.

Only after a long while did Mason lift his head, struggling to maintain an innocent expression.

"Mason? Sir, are you calling me?"

But Roland clearly had no interest in playing along with this act.

Seeing that bewildered look on the other party's face, he said nothing. He merely picked up the teacup and took an unhurried sip.

But his eyes remained firmly locked on Mason's face.

That gaze was like a tangible probe, becoming sharper as time passed.

The expression on Mason's face stiffened bit by bit, like he was wearing an ill-fitting mask.

But what happened next exceeded Roland's expectations.

The noble youth before him did not panic because his identity had been exposed, nor did he make any extreme move.

He merely sighed, set down the teapot he had been holding, leaned back into his chair, and said with some weariness, "So... are you here to arrest me?"

"I think you've misunderstood, Mr. Mason..."

Seeing the almost indifferent calm on his face, Roland's brow lifted.

He set down the teacup, the bottom making a faint crisp sound against the table.

"I do not currently serve the Golden Valley Kingdom. As for how I recognized you..."

Roland omitted the specific reason he had learned Mason's identity and chose a more direct explanation.

"Darco and I... are good friends."

"Darco..."

That name seemed to stir some warm memory. The corner of Mason's mouth lifted almost imperceptibly.

"That guy... is he doing well now?"

"Not bad. If everything is going smoothly..."

Roland's voice was steady.

"He should already be training at the Knight Academy by now."

"The Knight Academy..."

Hearing that name, an indescribably complicated emotion crossed Mason's eyes. In the end, it became a helpless sigh, and he shook his head.

"That guy is still the same as always. Smart, outstanding. No matter what he does... he always seems to succeed."

Smart? Outstanding?

The expression on Roland's face turned somewhat strange, and the image of that impulsive, always-rushing blond noble youth appeared in his mind.

He truly could not attach those two words to that reckless fellow.

Perhaps because they shared Darco as a mutual friend, the atmosphere in the room eased considerably.

"That fellow Darco..."

Mason's tone became a little lighter.

"How did he introduce me to you?"

"Let me think..."

Roland frowned and recalled carefully for a moment before repeating Darco's original words.

"He said you were... extremely kind, that you couldn't bear to step on ants crossing the garden, and on rainy days you would always carry lost fledglings back to their nests..."

"Stop, stop, stop!"

Before Roland could finish, Mason anxiously interrupted him.

The noble youth's face flushed red, and obvious embarrassment crawled across his features.

He seemed to realize that he had overreacted. He took a deep breath, his toes curling uncomfortably inside his boots, and spoke with awkwardness in his voice.

"That bastard Darco... forget it. This... uh, sorry..."

He looked toward Roland apologetically and added softly, "I still haven't asked for your name."

"Roland."

"Then, Mr. Roland."

Mason quickly changed the topic, eager to escape the embarrassment from moments before.

"Could we... talk about something else?"

"Fine."

Roland shrugged indifferently. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Pixie Tracy staring curiously at his teacup, so he casually pushed the cup over.

Tracy bent down without the slightest courtesy and carefully took a sip. She was immediately choked by the tea's bitterness, her little face wrinkling as she stuck out her pink tongue.

Seeing her like this, Roland chuckled. His gaze returned to Mason, carrying a hint of inquiry.

"However, Mr. Mason, I am rather curious... why did you recognize me?"

Roland clearly remembered Mason's soft cry when they had first met in the forest just now.

Although the other party had quickly concealed it, that instant of surprise had stirred Roland's curiosity.

In his memory, his understanding of Mason was limited to Darco's descriptions. In reality, the two of them had never interacted.

"Because..."

This question made Mason frown.

He pondered for a while, his gaze briefly wandering, but in the end he chose honesty.

"When the Golden Valley Kingdom sent people to search Dawnlight Territory... I saw you. At the time, you were standing beside a man wearing pitch-black armor."

This answer made Roland understand at once.

That had been after the Far Harbor incident ended. To avoid unnecessary complications, he and Darco had followed the Black Knight Gundar back to Blackwater Territory.

Clearly, this memory stirred some unpleasant thoughts in Mason.

His lips pressed into a taut line, and he fell silent.

Looking at his expression, Roland also fell silent. Only after a moment did he ask softly, "So... do you hate me?"

"Hate you? No..."

Mason gently shook his head, his voice sinking.

"I know very well that arresting my father and searching Dawnlight Territory... none of that had anything to do with you. How could I hate you for that? I just..."

His words stopped abruptly.

Mason's eyes lost focus, and only deep bewilderment remained on his face.

"After going through all of this... logically, I should hate something, whether a person or an event. But..."

His voice grew lower and lower, until he seemed to be whispering to himself.

"I don't even know who I should hate... Should I hate my father? No..."

He shook his head again, the movement heavy.

"Although he persecuted the people of his territory and betrayed His Majesty Morne... everything he did was to save me."

He paused, and struggle crossed his eyes.

"Should I hate His Majesty Morne? But Father truly did commit the grave crime of treason... As for the Church of Truth..."

When he mentioned that name, undisguised disgust swept across Mason's face.

"I can't pour my anger onto them either."

"Even though I know they must have had other motives, if not for them..."

His hand touched his left chest, and his voice carried a tremor.

"I... would probably have stepped through the gates of hell long ago."

"The gates of hell?"

Roland tried to use a lighter tone to break the oppressive atmosphere.

"Why not heaven?"

"Those people of the territory... were innocent!"

Mason's hand, which had been gently touching his chest, clenched tight. His knuckles whitened with force, like he wanted to crush his own heart.

"They should have had peaceful lives... but in the end, because of my illness... they lost their lives for nothing! So..."

He raised his head and squeezed out a bleak, shattered smile.

"How could someone like me, carrying the lives of innocents on my back... go to heaven?"

"Perhaps..."

Mason lowered his head again, his voice sinking into deeper shadow.

"I should have died early. Then... none of this would have happened. But I... I can't just give up this life."

His tone suddenly became firm, carrying an almost cruel stubbornness.

"My life... was bought with those people's lives. Whether they hate me or curse me... I have no right to throw away this life... granted by their blood!"

By the end, Mason's facial muscles twisted under extreme pain and struggle.

It was a complex expression woven from regret, unwillingness, despair, and some distorted resolve, so intense it was nearly suffocating.