Youngest 251

Episode 251

“Kal…”

A sense washed over me, a conviction that something was terribly wrong.

I stretched out my hand, searching for the man hidden in the darkness. I grabbed him by the collar. I couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Give me Khalid.”

The man laughed again.

“That’s my line.”

“…”

“Wistal.”

In the pitch-black gloom, glinting eyes stared at me and licked over my skin.

“It’s time you revealed yourself.”

The magic within me writhed violently.

Whoosh—

A powerful wind swept through the room.

The sound of glass bottles and ornaments crashing and shattering filled my ears. A tiny shard of glass drifted on the wind and brushed the corner of my mouth.

‘No.’

Through our touching bodies, I realized my magic was being drained away without end.

This insane lizard ancestor was scraping away every speck of my magic.

As if, when every drop of my strength was depleted, the goddess’s hidden power would awaken.

“No…!”

My body, pushed back, began to collapse. Before I knew it, I was half-reclined on the sofa.

“Get away! Move!”

Instinctively, I struggled to push him away, flailing in a panic. My hand seized a thick forearm.

At that moment—

‘…’

…Huh?

Above Kal’s coat hem, I felt something thin and hard.

‘Wait.’

Then, in a low, growling voice, the man spoke.

“I’ll gladly kill your enemy for you. So return the goddess to me now.”

The mad old man seemed more crazed than ever—a mass of obsession, possessiveness, regret, and every other dark emotion.

As the violent wind whirled, my neatly tied hair came undone and whipped upwards.

“The goddess is…”

I cried out, casting the barest protective magic.

“She’s dead! If she mattered so much, you should’ve done better long ago! You rotten reptile!”

‘Khalid!’

As my magic flowed helplessly out of me, I called Kal’s name again and again.

Those glinting eyes no longer spoke, only drawing out my power.

‘Khalid! Kal! Kaaal!’

Answer me.

Whenever I called you like this, you always answered.

‘Kal.’

Gruff, yet endlessly gentle, my irreplaceable friend.

The one I cared for…

“Yam. Look at this. Isn’t it a strange bracelet? Didn’t you say it was hard to control your magic?”

“What is it?”

The one I had somehow come to love so very much…

Kind and gentle—my first love.

“If you wear this, it’ll hold your magic in, and when you release it, it all comes pouring out. Or so it seems?”

“It’s got six rings?”

“You don’t like it?”

“If it’s from you, I like anything.”

As Kal grew, he became skilled at handling his magic.

He eventually released five of the six rings, returning them to me.

But the final one…

Flap, flap.

Somewhere, the pages of a book turned.

It was—

My very old diary.

—And Khalid, after that note two years ago,

Still has not returned the last bracelet to me.

That’s right.

He hasn’t yet returned it.

The magic control bracelet.

I pressed his arm with all my might.

Gathering up every drop of my remaining power, I broke the last ring that hung on Khalid’s forearm.

The bracelet was a magic tool that automatically adjusted to fit its owner, but stretched to its limits, it was already cracked and fragile, so it wasn’t difficult.

‘Besides, with Kal’s immense magic stored inside, a single ring is far too weak.’

Left alone, it would’ve soon broken.

So, then, perhaps, Khalid—

From the start, he gave up his body to double-cross the mad old man.

‘He left out the Dragon Lord’s magic on purpose, sealing only his own power.’

Like a beast hiding in the grass, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“What is this?!”

Suddenly, a surge of power crashed through the room like a dam bursting. Disbelief twisted the man’s expression. The gray in his eyes began to swirl with a strange blue light.

“Ha! Foolish lizard ancestor… You should’ve passed on instead of tormenting your descendants.”

I laughed, pouring every last shred of my magic into his body.

From what the old lizard had said, Khalid’s soul was now sleeping.

‘If you can sense my magic, then wake up!’

My vision flickered, growing hazy, and a wave of nausea welled up.

Enough! The man gripped my shoulders so hard they ached in desperation.

Hey, come quickly. Your body keeps wracking up sins through me.

No…

The Dragon Lord cried out, his voice mingled with blood and pus.

Do you know how long I’ve waited for you…?

Rumble.

In my fading consciousness, I heard the sound of something collapsing.

---

Khalid was walking through a storm.

‘What is this?’

He looked around indifferently.

He wondered where this ceaseless, clamorous power within him came from.

He wanted to find out.

To do so, he would have to comb through the past, the very roots of this power.

Leviathan had taught him: know your enemy, and you can crush him.

Besides, an unfamiliar voice would often try to seize control of his consciousness. Watching that unfold, he found himself curious about its intent.

But nothing surfaced. No memories at all.

‘I thought I’d get the jump on this out-of-control power before it exploded at the worst possible moment—was I wrong?’

It didn’t seem to be working.

Slightly irritated, Kal kept walking through the tempest.

In any case, there was a limit to how long he could keep his magic contained in the bracelet.

Soon it would shatter on its own, and the seal would break.

‘…That old man better not have done anything to Ruby in that time, or I’ll tear him apart.’

If he had, Kal would truly rip him to shreds.

‘But it’s my body, isn’t it?’

Then whom should I kill?

“….”

His hands and feet felt cold for a moment, but he kept walking.

He wasn’t that worried, in truth.

‘I pledged an oath spell to Ruby.’

So his body could never harm his master of its own accord.

…My master.

He was almost happy to feel such binding loyalty.

The storm around him gradually cleared.

As his vision sharpened, the landscape shifted from a haze to clear focus.

Kal stared blankly at the unfamiliar space.

“What is this place?”

He muttered and startled. His voice was slightly higher than he remembered.

‘This…’

Just a kid.

A face reflected in a puddle.

‘About thirteen years old…?’

Just then, someone kicked him hard in the shins.

“You little shit, can’t you walk properly?”

What the hell is this bastard’s problem?

But his body, contrary to his will, staggered badly.

And from his mouth, instead of a curse, an apology fell.

“…Sorry.”

It was hard to keep himself from buckling.

Even if he was better built and tougher than most, he was still a skinny boy.

“If you drop even a single stick of firewood, you’ll see. You worthless brat.”

Ptuh.

Filthy spit landed on the toe of his worn shoe. Kal looked at it with dull eyes, then walked on.

“….”

His mother was a maid, doing menial chores for the mercenary corps.

His father—a mighty mage from a far-off island—had spent one fiery night with her and then fled.

Young Khalid had never once forgotten where he came from.

“Hurry up! If you want to pay off your runaway mother’s share, you have a long way to go!”

He didn’t understand much.

But life, it seemed, always tilted toward the worst and hurtled down from there.

Clear water is easily polluted, a blank white canvas easily ruined.

The boy always thought that way.

“What’s this?”

A harsh voice snapped at him.

The man was a mid-level manager in this back-alley mercenary band.

Hardly had Kal set down the firewood when the man snatched a pouch from his waistband.

“This brat… I told you to steal some coins, and you try to trick me with this?”

Clatter.

A handful of stones and acorns tumbled out.

“When are you ever going to earn your keep, huh?”

The man jabbed Khalid’s head repeatedly. He quietly let the strength drain from his body.

The place where he’d been beaten last week still ached frighteningly, so he didn’t want to get hurt any more.

For a moment, seeing the silent boy, the man feigned friendliness, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey… hoo, didn’t I say that if you just did what you were told, I’d get you out of this menial work?”

They called it a mercenary corps, but in truth they were little more than street thugs. Their work was no different from criminal schemes.

Yet a nobleman protected the group’s operations, so there was little risk of arrest. And thanks to a steady flow of money, the building at least looked respectable.

But human nature never changes.

Just as he, with a maid’s blood, had been made a servant at the bottom rung.

No matter what he achieved in the mercenary corps, his roots would not change.

Life always tilts toward the worst.

Kal thought so, once more.