Chapter 12: Me and My Family (3) I scanned the file on the "Head-Eater" on my computer.
[Head-Eater]
[Incident Log]
1\. March 9, 1037
2\. July 3, 1037
3\. August 5, 1037...
The bastard had killed a total of eight Imperial citizens to date, with the most recent murder occurring three days ago.
"Three days ago."
That was the same day I killed the young Izenheim.
Quite a coincidence.
"Time to move."
I stood up and left the office.
In the first-floor lobby, I ran into Julian. He looked like he had just finished a mission; green blood, still wet, was splattered across his armor. Tiana stood by his side.
Julian was a senior knight with the authority to handpick his subordinates for missions. He used to be my mentor, but this time, he hadn't chosen me.
"Where are you headed, Max?" Julian asked nonchalantly.
"I've taken on a separate assignment."
He tilted his head. "May I ask which one?"
"The 'Head-Eater.'"
Julian's eyebrows twitched. He was well aware of the Head-Eater.
"Why that one? There's a reason some missions stay on the books."
A knight's record tracks every mission accepted and failed. Most loathe the blemish of a failure; it impacts their career.
"It means the difficulty is too high for a rookie."
"I'll be fine."
"...If you need any support, don't hesitate to ask."
"I will."
After our brief exchange, Julian stepped into the elevator. Tiana, however, looked like she had something to say.
"Hey. Do you even know what the Head-Eater is?"
"I know."
It had claimed eight victims over three years. It was a monster that would devour four more within the next year.
Before my regression, the Head-Eater had been active in the Empire for a while before suddenly vanishing, leaving the case permanently cold.
"For three years—"
"I know."
I knew Tiana. She was the child of a minor noble family.
Before my regression, her family was annihilated after getting caught in a political struggle, and Tiana herself became a fugitive.
I owed her a small debt. It was the Ebenholtz family that had destroyed her house.
"...Fine. Whatever. Do what you want."
Tiana brushed past me.
I left the Knights' headquarters and drove to the crime scene.
The site of the Head-Eater's last crime was a secluded back alley in the capital. It was a narrow path strewn with trash, the walls of the old buildings covered in a chaotic mess of graffiti.
"Sir Knight. You've arrived."
"Yes."
"The scene is as follows..."
In the deepest part of the alley, beyond the cordon set up by the Imperial Police, there were bloodstains that hadn't been cleaned up yet.
Thump!
The moment I approached, the black fragment inside my body reacted. It had caught the scent of its own kind.
"...As I thought."
My suspicion turned into certainty.
This bastard was an Izenheim too.
I tapped the black thing near my collarbone and spoke.
"Remember this well. We have to track these traces, so—ugh!"
Suddenly, the virus surged. It jerked me forward so violently that I face-planted into the ground.
Thud!
My face hit the asphalt. Filthy grime and dust clung to me.
However, the virus was active. It was slowly absorbing the ripples of energy lingering in the blood. Strange sensations seeped into my mind.
"K-Knight? Are you alright?" the detective asked, flustered.
"...It's nothing."
I quickly pushed myself up.
Thump— Thump—
I could feel the virus's heartbeat.
It was trying to tell me something.
"Fine. Where is it? Show me."
I was more than willing to listen.
We were a community of fate now, after all.
*
I moved, using the faint energy waves emitted by the virus as my compass. The location was in front of a classic mansion in the capital's traditional noble residential district.
"...Here?"
I looked up at the spacious six-story mansion and asked. The virus squirmed.
According to it, the "Head-Eater" was inside.
But this place—
"Only nobles can live here."
An Izenheim, an Imperial noble?
Was that possible?
It wasn't impossible. Status and origin are ultimately just paper and ink; they can be forged at any time.
"..."
However, I couldn't afford to move rashly. The Head-Eater had devoured eight people without leaving a single shred of evidence.
It was that meticulous.
Furthermore, the important question was whether I could actually defeat it.
Jacob had been young and inexperienced. The child in the park had welcomed death. It was practically a suicide.
If this Head-Eater was the "Lexi" Jacob had mentioned, I needed to be as cautious as possible.
"I've confirmed it."
Since I had already pinpointed the location, there was no need to rush.
What I needed now was the skill to surely kill Izenheims. To cultivate that power, I needed "that person."
Priya.
She was a much better instructor than I had anticipated.
Perhaps she could even become my master.
...No, I wanted her to be my master.
*
"Haa..."
I close my eyes.
I steady my breathing.
Following the rhythm of my inhalation and exhalation, the mana within my body pulses.
This is the unique mana breathing technique passed down through the Ebenholtz family for generations.
This method of breathing was a discipline I had practiced since I was three years old.
Now, I don't even consciously think about how to do it. Just like the act of breathing itself, I simply breathe naturally as I was taught.
"Fuu..."
This is fundamentally different from the various modern "mana breathing methodologies" that draw in external mana and circulate it through the body.
The Ebenholtz style doesn't care about the outside. It focuses solely on refining internal mana to be cleaner, purer, and denser.
This is because it is extremely advantageous from an environmental standpoint.
A wealthy person who grew up drinking elixirs and pills like water, surrounded by mana training rooms and mana respirators, has no need to pull mana from the outside. It's a very aristocratic method: just use what you've already accumulated in your body well.
Of course, the Ebenholtz's political rivals criticize it as outdated.
"It's a classic."
The person who became my instructor calls it "classical."
"There are subtle details in the Ebenholtz breathing. That's why it can only be fully mastered during childhood; if you miss that window, you can't learn it. It also requires a massive amount of dollars. The medicinal ingredients poured into your body alone probably cost at least 50 million."
The cost-effectiveness is abysmal, but cost isn't an issue. While others aim for 100% efficiency with a cost of 100, the Ebenholtz aim for 130% efficiency with a cost of 5,000. They know the value of that 30% difference all too well.
I wiped my sweat and opened my eyes.
"But why do you know so much about the Ebenholtz family?"
"A teacher is supposed to know many things."
She shrugged nonchalantly.
"Now, pick up your sword."
The mana breathing was merely a warm-up.
My master held out a longsword. The width of the blade was similar to a standard sword, but its total length reached 1.6 meters. It was the longsword of the Ebenholtz family.
"The Ebenholtz sword is fundamentally a noble's sword. It pursues fluid elegance rather than simple raw power. That's why it favors the slash."
I gripped the sword. I took the standard stance found in the Ebenholtz manual.
"Just like the manual, I see. But your body is stiff. Don't keep your back so rigid. Hold the sword as comfortably as possible. What do you think a noble is?"
"Why are you bringing up nobles now?"
"Because the Ebenholtz style is the most aristocratic of swords. You ignorant brat. Give me more money."
"..."
I relaxed my body. My master furrowed her brows.
"No. That just looks sloppy."
"Then what do you want me to do?"
"Think about it. Does a noble always stand stiffly? Like an angry cat? No. But do they slouch like a beggar? No."
I suddenly thought of my father, Zebestian.
He is formal but not stiff, steadfast but not stubborn. He is relaxed but not lazy, dignified but not arrogant. He is a man in whom contradictory elements achieve a perfect balance. If a soul had weight, his would have been forged to be infinitely heavy.
A man of high class.
A 'real' noble.
Could I ever become that kind of person?
...I am his child.
Whether I like it or not, I am of the Ebenholtz seed, the son of Zebestian.
Blood is thicker than water, and heredity cannot be defied.
The Ebenholtz name, which I once struggled to escape, had come back to me.
"Haa..."
Quietly, I release the tension in the hand gripping the sword.
I maintain just enough grip strength not to drop it.
My shoulders and elbows are softly relaxed, yet I am in a posture where I can fully feel the weight of the sword's tip.
"...Yes. That's it. Your frame and form are good, so the lines are coming alive. Also, just because it's a longsword doesn't mean you have to grip it with both hands. Provided you can control it perfectly, that is."
I let go with my left hand. I held the longsword with only my right. A heavy weight was transmitted through my entire arm.
"Now, swing. Don't think about anything else—think only of a single, perfect slash."
I swung the sword with everything I had.
Swoosh!
The longsword cut through the air, making a sharp sound. The strength of my entire body was concentrated into that single slash.
Priya spoke.
"Pathetic."
"What now?"
"I said swing. While thinking only of a perfect slash. You're putting too much effort into it."
"Of course it takes effort to be perfect."
"Tsk. You don't understand."
She shook her head.
"It can't be helped. Just keep repeating it. Make sure you swing at least ten thousand times a day. That is the First Movement of Ebenholtz."
"How am I supposed to do ten thousand a day? My arm will fall off."
"You won't be able to if you put in as much effort as you are now. Keep your mindset clear. Not like a fake noble, but a real one. Put in the effort tens of thousands of times to create that one perfect slash."
"..."
"What are you staring at? Do it, brat!"
Whoosh!
I swung the sword for now.
Whoosh!
I thrust the longsword into the air. Every time the sword moved forward, I felt as if I were being pulled along with it.
Since long ago, this Ebenholtz longsword has been unnecessarily long.
Whoosh!
I quickly became short of breath.
"Haa, haa, haa."
My heart ached. Every muscle in my body screamed as if they were about to snap.
I collapsed after about 300 swings.
"Get up."
My master grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet.
"...Hmm."
She touched various parts of my body, then muttered with a hollow laugh.
"Certainly. You recover quickly."
I frowned, but in reality, the fatigue and pain vanished before long. My body felt light again.
It was likely the effect of the "Mana Core."
Thank you for that.
"That's your homework. There's nothing next until you can swing it ten thousand times, more or less."
"...Yes. I understand."
This woman is strange. It looks like she's blatantly slacking off, but she doesn't seem like a fraud.
Ring, ring, ring—
The alarm signaling the end of the lesson rang. Priya asked.
"Do you have other plans today?"
"Yes. I have a real estate appointment. I plan to rest for a bit before I go."
"Hmm~ Is that so? You're rich. I'm jealous."
"Well then. I'll be going now."
I tried to head out, but she blocked the training room door.
"What is it now?"
"Don't kids these days prepare a little 'token of appreciation'?"
"...What?"
She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms.
"Brat. Try showing some sincere respect for your master."
"You're getting paid by my father."
"Are you a daddy's boy? You must have your own standards too!"
"..."
I pulled my wallet from the inner pocket of my coat. I handed her a few bills. Her face crumpled. I pulled out three more. It got a bit better, but her brow was still furrowed. I just took out all the cash and shoved it into her hand.
"Good. Good work today~ Rest well~"
Her smile was radiant.
Crazy bitch.
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