A set number of random spatial jumps within a certain range—this was the price for using the Taboo Item, the Illusory Cocoon. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

This was the second time Baron had seen the same tree. One moment he’d be on a mountain peak, the next in a valley or on a mountainside.

It wasn’t until he "teleported" right into Soron’s face that his brain finally processed the feedback, making him comprehend the cost of the Illusory Cocoon.

The first sign that the price was manifesting was the gradual loss of his sense of spatial distance.

’I can understand a delayed price, but did it have to kick in right now? And to top it all off, I had to go and deliver myself right to his doorstep.’

Baron looked past the purple cage to Soron on the back of the Silver Lion and smiled grimly to himself.

’What was that saying again? "You’re the one who ran into me."’

But Soron knew nothing of this. He just thought that after an arduous journey over mountains and through rivers, he had finally caught Baron just as he was about to escape.

"Baron Constantin! I never imagined... I never imagined you, a Bloodless, would have the gall to return to the Plains!

Since you’ve come back, don’t even think about leaving again!"

Soron yanked his reins and snarled at Baron.

’Why are you shouting? Judging by your tone, you’d think we have some deep-seated hatred between us, my friend?’

Baron scoffed internally.

"I have waited for this day for a very long time... and now the heavens have finally delivered you to me once more!"

’Hang on, my friend. Your tone isn’t just deep-seated hatred... it sounds like there’s a whole love-hate drama thing going on.’

Baron’s expression faltered. ’Besides my life, I’d better protect my ass too,’ he thought.

Soron produced another Magic Card and touched it to his Magic Staff. A second purple cage descended from the sky, reinforcing the first and making Baron’s escape even more difficult.

It was less a purple cage and more a unique form of energy. When Baron tentatively touched a corner of his cashmere tunic to the bars, it was instantly annihilated.

Soron sneered, "These cages are formed from pure Thunderbolt. They can trap even a Bronze Tier Faith Knight. You’re merely a Black Iron Tier Contract Knight. There is no way you can escape."

Baron looked out from the purple cage at the pride of lions surrounding him and the grim-faced followers on their backs, thinking that things were looking pretty dire.

His Chain of the Imitator was still on cooldown, and his Spiritual Power was temporarily depleted from using the Taboo Item.

His Dragon Flame couldn’t penetrate the Thunderbolt, and his blood-related abilities were only useful for the hunt.

’Alchemy Bullets?’

’I have twelve rounds in my revolver, but there are over twenty of them, including Soron.’

’And unlike that brainless Bill, Soron is cautious, hiding in the middle of his men. From this angle, my Alchemy Bullets can’t possibly hit him.’

’And judging by the sheer hatred coming from my dear cousin, the Law Enforcement Organization that’s been trying to pin things on me is probably on their way here right now.’

For a moment, he was utterly at a loss.

’Give up now?’

’No, that was never in Baron’s nature.’

He needed to wait for an opportunity.

Ever since the spatial jumps began, he had been mentally timing the intervals. They happened roughly every five minutes.

’Two minutes have passed since I was caught. I just have to stall for another three...’

THUD. With a low, bestial grunt, Baron suddenly collapsed to his knees, his body flickering with purple light.

"Why... why would you, you despicable Bloodless, dare to return here! To appear so nonchalantly before the man whose eye you gouged out... How dare you! How dare you!"

Soron swung his Magic Staff, and the purple cage unleashed arcs of electricity that lashed Baron’s body.

He roared, his face a mask of fury. Rage washed over him like a tide, drowning his reason. At the height of his anger, he even clawed out his own glass eye.

His father, Eugene Constantin, had paid One Ounce of Gold to have it crafted by Zophie, who at the time was the chief Alchemist of the Constantine Family.

But after accepting the commission, the Dwarf had simply picked a marble from the box of glass beads he’d given to Baron and his sister, and handed it to Soron’s father.

Soron had witnessed all of this with his own remaining eye while hiding in a corner.

But he never said a word. Perhaps it was humiliation. Perhaps it was pride. Perhaps it was hatred. Or perhaps... it was a way to vent his own feelings of powerlessness.

He endured. He remained silent. He kept his mouth shut, like a fallow field.

He allowed his hatred to grow wild, like weeds overtaking the soil.

Waiting for the right moment to burn it all to the ground.

And today, this very day, his chance had arrived.

"Baron Constantin!" Soron shrieked, throwing the glass eye at Baron. He tore himself away from a restraining Attendant and waved his Magic Staff hysterically. "You bloodless lunatic! Go to Hell, just like your father!"

The purple lightning coiled around Baron’s body like innumerable small snakes, the Thunderbolt tearing at him as if with teeth.

He was assaulted by waves of convulsive pain, and he heard Soron’s mocking laughter—but it wasn’t the laughter of the Wizard now sitting on the lion.

Instead, it was the laughter of a child—sharp, taunting, and full of derision.

And yet, Baron recognized it instantly. It was Soron’s voice from childhood—immature and condescending.

His sense of space wasn’t blurring... but his sense of Time was.

His memory suddenly hurtled back through the years.

He heard the wind, saw the moonlight on the bright eyes of the other boys. And in those eyes, he saw a cold glint—the way one looks at a monster.

In a dark alley, a group of boys surrounded a girl in a white dress. Their rough hands, accustomed to grasping swords and reins, seized her slender wrists. Their laughter was raw and bloody, like a fresh wound.

They handed the girl a sword. "Use this," they told her. "We promise, for every cut you give yourself, your brother gets one less..."

...

「At this very moment.」

Soron leaped from his lion’s back. Baron was sprawled on the ground; not even Dragon Scale could completely withstand the hammering of the Thunderbolt.

He lay on the ground like a corpse, his breathing faint. If not for the slight rise and fall of his body, Soron would have thought he was already dead.

He reached mockingly through the bars of the cage and grabbed Baron’s hair—the cage could neither trap nor harm the Spellcaster.

Looking at the face he hadn’t seen for so long yet still faintly recognized, he ordered an Attendant to bring him a dagger.

"Master Soron, the Hestia Family gave specific instructions: they want him alive."

Soron casually slapped the Attendant, snatched the dagger, and said lightly, "Who says a man can’t live after having his eyes gouged out?"

...

「In his memory.」

Baron couldn’t see the girl’s face; his gaze, lifted just slightly, met only a pair of emerald eyes. They held no shock or alarm, no sorrow or pleading.

They were as placid as still water, like jade that had been soaked in the cool night, then ground and polished by a master artisan.

The girl lifted the sword and slowly pressed it against her own flawless, pale arm. Amid the jeering laughter of the boys, the sound of her dripping blood was deafeningly quiet.

"I saw it! I saw it!"

Soron, just a boy himself, roared with laughter. He was holding up the diary Yelena always clutched to her chest.

"What did you see?"

"What else?" Soron laughed. "It’s just like the rumors say. These siblings are just as messed up as their father..."

"What exactly did it say?"

"It’s just... it’s just..."

’My head... it hurts.’

The pain was a fire in his head, making his arm throb. It felt like it was burning through his organs, his very bones, threatening to erupt from his throat.

’Yelena... How dare you hurt Yelena...’

"Just what?"

Baron, on the ground, looked up. His face was caked with blood and dirt, but beneath it all, his eyes shone with a dark light as he rasped in a raw, childish voice.

Soron was taken aback by the chilling darkness in the boy’s eyes, but he quickly suppressed his fear.

He kicked the boy viciously and spat on him. Then, with a cough and a conspiratorial smirk, he said, as if stating the obvious:

"What else? You and your sister are just like your father—always wanting to meddle with the Taboo..."

"Which eye."

Memory and reality overlapped.

The child Baron and the Baron in the cage spoke in unison.

Both in reality and in memory, Soron—the man and the boy—froze.

Then, agony exploded from his eye socket.

Both versions of him, the child and the man outside the cage.

Were attacked by the same person, who gouged out one of their eyes.

But this time, it was a different eye.

...

In reality, Baron ignored the searing pain, surged through the cage, and tackled Soron!

He snapped the Magic Staff with one hand while plunging the other deep into Soron’s remaining good eye socket!

As the Attendants watched in trembling horror, he gouged out the remaining eyeball and blew it to smithereens with his revolver!

Then, as Soron howled in agony, Baron vanished. His disappearance coincided with the arrival of the Hestia Family’s Griffin Knight Order, led by Roy Hestia—the family’s second son and Jill Hestia’s younger brother. It was the random jump, the "price" of the Illusory Cocoon, that took him away.

When he reappeared, Baron was floating in a Blood Pool lined with bone, facing the massive, jagged skull of a Flying Dragon.

He turned his head. Behind him, a congregation of Cultists were bowing their heads in pious prayer.

From the thorn patterns and Red Dragon totems adorning their burlap cloaks, it was clear they were Cultists of the Dragon Eater Association.

’Out of the frying pan and into the fire? Or had his luck finally turned? Or was this just another kind of hell?’

’What a pain. Screw it, I’ll just start absorbing.’

With that thought, Baron’s body sank to the bottom of the Blood Pool. He began to absorb the Flying Dragon’s Blood from the ritual pool to repair his grievously wounded body.

’Flying Dragon’s Blood... SSS... Hey, it’s not spicy!’

—

[Secret Notes of Baron Constantin (The Original):

April 9th, 1975 / Plains / Overcast

Master Zophie lied to me. Those glass marbles were the byproduct of a failed Alchemy Ceremony.

I’m going to tell Father on him.

... (Scribbled-out and revised text. Baron guessed this part was added later.)

Today, Master Zophie took me into the mountains to watch the Beowulf Clan’s grand Dragon Hunting event. I heard my fiancée was there, but sadly, I didn’t get to see her.

I have to say, that Isabella from the Beowulf Family is a real spitfire! I can’t believe I lost to her in arm wrestling!

Oh right, I won’t tell on Master Zophie after all. Yelena really likes his glass marbles.

As long as Yelena’s happy, that’s all that matters.]