Turning-Chapter 874

The quiet conversation that had continued in soft murmurs finally faded only after Yuder unknowingly fell asleep. His blinking had slowed more and more, his words had begun to trail off with growing drowsiness, yet he still tried his best to stay awake. It was almost pitiful to watch. But Kishiar didn’t say anything about it and simply continued talking.

Telling someone like Yuder Aile that it was okay to sleep wouldn’t help at all. Instead, it was far more effective to calmly inform him of what he wanted to know, answer his questions, and reassure him that they could check everything together when morning came.

During the two weeks Yuder had been asleep, the South had descended into utter chaos—like the sky and earth had flipped over.

At the funeral for the Second Prince of House Hern, Duke Hern was brutally murdered. Even if he had died a natural death, the head of House Hern—essentially the ruler of the South—would have sent shockwaves through the Empire. But the one who killed him turned out to be his discarded illegitimate son.

The aftermath of the incident left many dead or injured, including the Duke’s knights. On top of that, an abnormal rift appeared at the temple on the same day as the funeral, unleashing countless monsters. And as if that weren’t enough, a shocking report spread: hailstones the size of fists had rained down all day in the South, where snow was rare even in winter.

But despite all these events, what truly shocked the people of the South wasn’t the hail or the monsters.

Even though countless witnesses claimed that monsters had poured from the sky along with the hail in a hellish scene, there were barely any casualties in Sharloin.

The ones who held the line against the monsters that nearly covered the entire city were the Cavalry, the Imperial Southern Army, the loyalists to the First Princess of House Hern, and the people of Sharloin who found the courage to rise and fight. Thanks to them, Sharloin survived the nightmare and welcomed the rising sun, miraculously unscathed.

Standing before the stunned citizens with a weary face, Mayra El Hern, the First Princess, explained what had happened the day before and promised swift recovery efforts. The Cavalry and the Southern Army immediately expressed support for her, and Emperor Keillusa quickly issued a statement from the faraway capital.

With General Gino Bodelli—respected across the Empire—publicly vouching for Mayra’s honesty, and the Emperor declaring his backing, the South stabilized rapidly.

Of course, there were complications. The House of Diarca, which had hesitated at first, suddenly raised a commotion, demanding a more thorough investigation into the Duke’s death and the Southern incident. They floated a conspiracy theory suggesting that Mayra and General Gino had orchestrated the Duke’s assassination together, but that only fueled backlash among the southern nobility.

Whispers spread quietly among the nobles that House Diarca had meddled in the West during the Ta-in incident and was now trying to control the South as well. This shift in perception made it easier for Mayra to maneuver. The reason such rumors spread so quickly was because Emperor Keillusa had already anticipated Diarca’s moves and taken steps in advance.

The First Prince of House Apeto, Eishes—currently serving as acting head—was bedridden and said nothing of note. Meanwhile, the Second Princess of House Ta-in, Priscilla, recently named official heir, expressed indirect support by sending supplies and clerics to the South.

Diarca, still stung from the loss of face during the Ta-in scandal, lashed out fiercely, accusing both Apeto and Ta-in. Upon learning that the illegitimate son who killed Duke Hern was an Awakener, they even tried to place blame on the Cavalry for not apprehending him earlier.

But just before the accusations could escalate, House Diarca suddenly went quiet. The shift began after Kiole di Diarca—dispatched to the South—sent a secret letter to the Duke of Diarca.

Kishiar knew this only because Emperor Keillusa had been monitoring the Duke with his own abilities the entire time.

The Emperor knew full well that the Crown Prince had left the palace—and that the Duke didn’t. He intentionally leaked information, skillfully confusing the wily old Duke. Keillusa calculated that the longer it took the Duke to learn of Kachian’s disappearance, the more advantageous it would be for the throne.

And he was right. As soon as the Duke received the letter from his youngest son, he sent people to the Radiant Palace, only to discover the Crown Prince gone—and was struck with rage and shock. With that fire suddenly at his feet, he no longer had the luxury to worry about the affairs of others.

Mayra, meanwhile, didn’t waste time responding to House Diarca’s objections or making a show of trying to claim the dukedom. She focused instead on tying up the crisis. She postponed the Duke’s funeral, ousted and denounced all those factions that had stayed passive—including the Lord of Sharloin. However, if someone had stepped up to help the city during the storm, she left them untouched, even if they had once criticized her.

As a result, most of the South’s nobles and citizens, though constantly playing at politics, eventually aligned themselves with Mayra, at least publicly.

The fact that the Duke’s killer was not only an Awakener, but one who was hostile to nobles and non-Awakeners alike—and that he had clashed with another Awakener that day—was buried in the flood of events and didn’t attract much attention.

Thanks to that, the backlash that could’ve fallen on the Cavalry—and any renewed stigma toward Awakeners, especially due to their ties to the Star of Nagran—never came to pass.

Each time Kishiar managed to pull himself out of bed, he received reports on all this from Nathan Zuckerman. Even while bedridden, he had reliable aides—the Cavalry, General Gino, and even the distant Emperor—to support him.

He simplified these reports and relayed them to Yuder. And even as Yuder blinked with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, he did his best to concentrate on the words.

He listened to how all their efforts hadn’t ended in failure. How so many people had worked hard, waiting and hoping for him to awaken. Kishiar took note of every flicker of emotion that passed through Yuder’s eyes while he listened.

But what brought Yuder the most relief of all... was hearing about Kishiar’s condition.

The truth was, Kishiar’s current state wasn’t something you could brush off with a simple "I’m fine." His vessel hadn’t shattered completely or triggered a heat phase, but he had voluntarily isolated himself in his room for two main reasons.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

First, his body now required unusually long periods of sleep—likely because his vessel had been pushed beyond its limits for the first time in his life. Second, the pain he was experiencing was similar to what he’d endured when his vessel was fractured, and he needed the solitude to calm his raw nerves.

In other words, even though his rational mind told him he posed no danger to others, he’d chosen to isolate himself just in case he accidentally hurt someone—especially one specific person.

He didn’t say it aloud, but it was obvious to him that the person he feared hurting most was Yuder Aile.

He’d always hated confinement. But in the face of pain he already knew too well, he found comfort in the most familiar and stable environment possible. It was enough to make him scoff at himself.

Kishiar looked down at Yuder’s sleeping face. The blackened veins that had once marred his pale skin had almost completely disappeared. Only the area around his abdomen, where the corruption had been thickest, still showed faint traces.

Yuder didn’t seem to feel any pain while awake. But that didn’t mean his body wasn’t still suffering in ways he didn’t realize. After all, he was someone who could silently endure almost any amount of pain.

Kishiar reached out and gently held the fingers that peeked out between the thick bandages. They were warm, faintly. Yuder’s ungloved fingers bore calluses and scars—nothing about them was delicate or beautiful, but to Kishiar la Orr, they were far more beautiful than his own flawless, unblemished hands.

His touch moved—lingering from fingertips to wrist, to forearm, then up to the shoulder wrapped in bandages. Yuder didn’t know this, but each time Kishiar had awakened and come to his side, he had done the same—sat quietly, held his hand, and carefully stroked the bandages. Not to channel divine power, but simply, with utmost care, as if afraid of causing pain.

How many times had he performed this almost sacred ritual?

Just then, a faint shadow appeared in the doorway, briefly covering the pale moonlight. It was none other than Nathan Zuckerman.

"......"

After confirming who Kishiar was with, Nathan gave a silent, respectful bow. The rest of their conversation was carried out in barely audible tones, a quiet exchange between two Swordmasters.

"The pharmacist sent medicine for Lord Aile and for you, Your Grace."

"Thank you. Leave it there. If you come any closer, he’ll probably wake again."

"...Did he just wake earlier?"

"Yes."

"...I’m relieved."

If Yuder ever found out that his blunt lieutenant had said something so openly caring, what kind of face would he make? ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) Kishiar’s lips curled faintly—then relaxed again.

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