Chapter 4
Ill Fated Relationship (1)
The moment Ernolf activated his Mana Heart, he neutralized all the poison from both the Red-Spotted Spiders and the Retchaka. Even so, his body burned like a furnace, keeping him from regaining proper consciousness, and every joint in his body throbbed as if he had been trampled by an elephant. It was the price his weak, frail body paid for failing to handle an awakened Mana Heart.
As he drifted in and out of consciousness, the scenery outside flickered in brief flashes. Long stretches of rugged, rocky mountains gave way to murky black forests and wetlands.
‘Someone is carrying me on their back… Ah, is it that boy?’
Through the boy’s thin back pressed against his chest, Ernolf could feel his steady breathing and body heat. He had initially thought the boy was twisted and cruel for treating human life so lightly, but perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. Whether surrounded by Red-Spotted Spider monsters or facing the brink of becoming Retchaka bait, the boy had staked his life to protect his brother. Seeing how anxiously he wandered the wilderness with his brother on his back, Ernolf didn’t know the full story, but the child didn’t seem irredeemably evil.
After roughly a day of being carried on the boy’s back, Ernolf faintly regained consciousness in a shabby village somewhere. He heard the boy arguing with someone nearby. He wanted to open his eyes, but lacked the strength to do so.
“Sounds like you don’t have enough earholes. Want me to puncture a few more for you? Bring the medicine right now!” “Where does a beggar brat get off trying to ruin my business? Get the hell out before I break you!”
When the boy flared up in anger, the man threatened him in return.
“Ha, this little shit is really eager to throw his life away.”
The boy smirked, glaring daggers at the man. Ernolf could feel a thick, suffocating killing intent radiating from the child’s body.
‘He’s going to die at this rate.’
He didn’t mean the boy; he meant the man. Young and scrawny as he looked, the child was an Aura user. The man was completely oblivious to the fact that the boy could end his life with a flick of his finger, which only made watching the exchange more nerve-wracking.
“Don’t fight.”
The bloodlust was so intense that Ernolf doubted the boy would listen, but he tried to intervene anyway.
“Let’s just go.”
His mouth was bone-dry, making it hard to move his tongue properly. After barely squeezing out those extra words, Ernolf let out a heavy sigh. Then, as if by a miracle, the boy instantly reined in his killing intent. It was such an unexpected reaction that Ernolf was genuinely startled.
‘Did he actually listen to me?’
It felt like the sensation of a wild, untamed beast obeying only its master. Ernolf felt strangely delighted that the boy had heeded his words, and found the kid almost endearing.
“Let me lie down. Is there anywhere to rest comfortably?” “Fine.”
Though huffing with lingering rage, the boy turned his back on the man and walked away without another word. Afterward, the boy tried to secure a room at an inn, only to be turned away by the innkeeper, who scoffed that he had no interest in clearing out a corpse given Ernolf’s near-dead state. Outside a restaurant, they were doused with dirty bathwater and told that beggars had no business loitering around. When they tried to fill their empty stomachs with water at a public well, they were interrogated by the village militia. Every single time, the boy radiated murderous intent as if ready to slaughter them all, but whenever Ernolf urged him to stop, the child suppressed his rage and held back. Seeing that, Ernolf felt a lump in his throat.
‘Tsk, tsk. Call themselves adults… They’re far too harsh on a young child.’
Carried on the bone-thin back of the frail boy, Ernolf felt a deep pang of sorrow. Perhaps exhausted from starvation, the boy eventually set Ernolf down along a sloping hillside below a ridge.
“Hey, Tiri. Don’t die. If you go dying on your own, I’ll kill you with my own hands.”
Looking down at Ernolf, who was barely holding onto a thread of life, the boy spoke bluntly. He slouched on the grassy slope, gazing westward toward the setting sun. Ernolf looked up at the boy through blurry eyes. He felt pity and deep compassion for the child who was trying so desperately to keep his brother alive.
“Hey, kid.”
Lacking the strength to get up, Ernolf looked up at the filthy boy from where he lay in the grass. Looking at him closely in the daylight, though gaunt and unkempt, the boy possessed a remarkably fine skeletal frame and a face sculpted as elegantly as a statue.
“What is your name?” “What?”
The boy’s face, which had brightened upon seeing his brother regain consciousness, darkened once again.
“What kind of nonsense is that? You don’t know my name?” “I do not.”
The boy waved his hand back and forth over Ernolf’s face. Then he pressed his palm against his forehead.
“Did the fever fry your brain or something…?”
Ever since realizing how deeply the boy cared for his brother, Ernolf had felt a persistent weight on his conscience. He couldn’t bring himself to tell the child that a stranger’s soul now inhabited his beloved brother’s body.
‘Is a full restoration even possible? If so, when could it be done? Nothing can be guaranteed. Telling him the truth will only crush the child’s spirit.’
From the looks of it, the owner of this body was the boy’s sole remaining kin. Furthermore, the child was currently Ernolf’s only trustworthy companion. It seemed best to gloss over the matter vaguely until he could figure out a solution.
“I know my name is Tiri. What is your name?” “It’s not funny. Stop it.”
The boy seemed to assume Ernolf was playing a joke on him.
“You just need to tell me your name.” “Kazar. It’s Kazar!”
The boy shouted, his voice laced with irritation. This time, it was Ernolf’s turn to be shocked.
“Kazar, you say?” “Yeah, Kazar. Got a problem with that?”
He had a huge problem with it. Anyone from the Hayton Empire who heard the name Kazar would instantly recall King Kazar—the medieval tyrant who had mercilessly slaughtered his own people, loyal subjects, and even brutally murdered his own wife and children.
‘Of all the countless names in the world, why that one…?’
He felt appalled thinking about what kind of insane parents would give their child such a cursed name.
“Have you ever considered changing your name?” “What kind of bullcrap is that?!”
The boy barked so fiercely that Ernolf backed down, mumbling in a subdued voice that he was just throwing it out there.
“Do you really not remember a single thing?”
Unable to believe his brother had lost his memory, Kazar pressed him again.
“I do not.” “Not even me?”
Lying on the grass, Ernolf shook his head.
‘Is that why he forgot there was a water puddle in the deep shaft? Did he really lose his memories?’
Fuming with frustration, Kazar let out a sharp yell.
“Fuck, how did you turn into an idiot?” “An idiot? Why am I an idiot?” “Someone who doesn’t even know his own name is an idiot. What else would you call it?” “I know my name. It is Tiri.” “You think that’s your name?” “Is it not?”
Ernolf quietly worried whether this body’s real name might be just as unlucky as Kazar’s.
“That’s a nickname. Tirad is your name!” “Tirad. Hmm, not bad.” “Ah, damn it…”
The more they talked, the darker Kazar’s expression became. Ernolf knew this, but he simply couldn’t tell him the truth.
“Did you forget about our family too?” “Yes, I do not remember a thing.” “What about our home and village?” “I don’t know.” “Of course you don’t know, you dumbass! We never had a home! Our father was the child of an exile, and our mother was a quarry slave! Ah, damn it, you really forgot everything.” “Father was the child of an exile? What crime did he commit to be exiled!”
It was already shocking enough for Ernolf—a noble heir to a prestigious family—to possess the body of a slave, but learning he was the offspring of an exiled criminal was almost too much to handle.
“Why are you acting so surprised now?” “I told you I do not remember. It is only natural to be surprised when hearing it for the first time.”
Ernolf added that it was likely caused by the rock striking his head during the cave-in. Indeed, there was a large scab on his scalp from a severe wound. Kazar clenched his thin cheeks and chewed nervously on his lower lip, staring at Ernolf. To think he couldn’t remember a single story their father had repeated so often. He had no choice now but to believe his brother had truly lost his memory.
“Father’s father… meaning our grandfather… allegedly sided with the enemy when war broke out or something…” “He betrayed the nation?” “Yeah, exactly. So the whole family was executed, and only Dad was spared death because he was too young, getting exiled instead.” “And so he wandered until he became a slave.” “Yeah.”
Listening to Kazar, Ernolf felt an oppressive weight in his chest, making it hard to breathe.
‘Isn’t this identical to the biography of King Kazar?’
The tyrant Kazar was also known as ‘Kazar of the Dirty Blood’ because he was the child of an exile.
‘…It couldn’t be that this boy is actually the tyrant King Kazar, right?’
If the boy wasn’t just unfortunate enough to share the name, but was truly King Kazar himself, that would place this era roughly 1,600 years in the past.
‘Preposterous.’
Ernolf scoffed at his own absurd imagination, realizing he was jumping to wild conclusions simply because of a shared name and humble origins.
‘Possessing someone else’s body is bizarre enough, but traveling 1,600 years back in time? Haha, what nonsense…’
Ernolf’s original plan was to recover from his injuries and head straight to his laboratory to retrieve his original, empty body. As long as he could secure and preserve his true body, he could buy time until he leveraged his family’s vast magical resources to find a way to reverse the body possession. However, if he hadn’t just inhabited a stranger’s body, but had also been thrust back 1,600 years into the past, he was in catastrophic trouble. Forget about his family helping him research a solution—the very body he needed to return to wouldn’t even exist in this era.
‘Surely… things aren’t that dire.’
Though the language the boy used belonged to the Warring States period transitioning from ancient to medieval times, Ernolf decided to withhold judgment until he found more definitive proof. Accepting the fact that he was currently inside someone else’s body was already overwhelming enough.
“Hey, kid.” “…”
The boy didn’t answer. Ernolf changed his form of address.
“Kazar.” “What?”
Only when called by name did the boy finally reply.
“Do you know who the king of this country is?” “Why would I care?” “Do you know or not?” “What good does knowing that do?”
It seemed he didn’t know. Having lived as a slave since birth, it would be stranger if he knew the king’s name. In fact, he likely didn’t even know the name of the kingdom.
‘If I examine the attire people wear, I might be able to estimate the general era…’
However, he questioned whether what they were wearing could even be classified as clothing.
‘Even rags would look better than this.’
When he casually tugged at the worn piece of cloth barely covering his private areas, it tore effortlessly. A spiderweb felt sturdier than this.
Grumbleeeeee.
As if to accentuate their pitiful misery, a loud rumble resonated across the barren, rocky hill. It came directly from Kazar’s stomach.
Grumble… gurgle… squeak.
Such a colorful variety of noises echoed out that Ernolf couldn’t help but chuckle in disbelief.
“We should fill our empty stomachs first.” “Want me to go catch something to eat?”
Kazar offered boastfully.
“If you know how to hunt, why did you starve yourself?”
At Ernolf’s casual question, Kazar averted his gaze and hesitated before answering haltingly.
“Well… because I thought you’d kick the bucket the moment I turned my back.” “You stayed by my side starving because you were afraid I’d die if you looked away?”
Having been born with a body weaker than others and enduring endless suffering, Tirad had been so frail it wouldn’t have been surprising if he breathed his last at any moment. The reason he had survived multiple brushes with death after fainting from his fight with the Retchaka was because Kazar had continuously channeled his own Aura into his body, forcing his heart to keep beating.
“I won’t die.” “…?” “I have no intention of living miserably trapped in a pathetic body only to die like a dog, so do not worry.”
Saying those words, Ernolf swore to himself that he would definitely return to his original body, reclaim his identity as a high mage of the Hayton Empire and heir to the Torlie family, and marry his betrothed. Regardless, before that day came—even while trapped in this slave’s body—he had zero intention of letting himself be trampled on or despised.
“Now that I have awakened as a mage, our hardship is over. I shall make sure you live comfortably from now on.”
These were no empty words. Mages were treated with great reverence across many lands. Not only could they acquire wealth and power, but with the right political backing, they could even rise to high nobility.
“Losing your memory isn’t all bad.”
Kazar interrupted Ernolf, the corner of his lips smirking upward in a crooked line.
“I won’t live long anyway, so you eat it. If an opportunity to leave this place comes, just go on your own. You used to blabber about things I hated hearing all the time. When we got caught escaping and were split up, you went in my place saying I wouldn’t survive the deep shaft. Compared to back then, I prefer you as an idiot now.”
Listening to his words, Ernolf recalled Kazar running through the cloud of dust to save him while he was standing dazed in the mine. So that was the reason the brothers had been separated.
“Listen carefully, Brother. I have no intention of letting you die in my place, nor do I intend to die living like this. If I’m going to live, I’m going to live grandly.”
As if venting a deep-seated grievance, Kazar emphasized every single word with force.
“You have quite the spine for a youngster. Very well, how grandly do you wish to live?” “Sitting in a high position, bowing to no one.” “Do you wish to become a king?” “Well, something like that.”
Ernolf pondered for a moment, then shook his head. The image of the tyrant King Kazar came to mind.
“Becoming a king would be problematic.” “Why?”
When Kazar asked why, Ernolf looked at him with narrowed eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to say that the name was simply too cursed.
“You do not need to become a king to live well. Ruling a nation is nothing but a headache.” “I suppose.”
Recollecting his turbulent past life, Kazar wore a bitter expression.
“Either way, I’m going to live an insanely awesome life, so keep that in mind.”
Saying so, Kazar grinned broadly. Across his shining, oily dark eyes, the faces of the enemies he needed to slaughter flashed in an endless stream. Seeing Kazar speak so boldly and smile so brightly, Ernolf felt oddly moved. Though starving, gaunt, and wrapped in filthy rags, the child looked surprisingly dignified.
‘If raised well, he might turn out to be a legendary hero.’
Although the name Kazar left a foul taste in his mouth, names could easily be changed. Ernolf decided that until he could return to his true body, he would care for Kazar like a real younger brother and raise him to walk a righteous path.
