Chapter 363 – Upheaval (1)
The unification effect, that momentary merging between Arthur and Retonicalus, had an immense impact.
Makibeldor, the King of Greed, had been annihilated.
But Retonicalus had not the slightest interest in the death of an absolute being.
His sole concern was Arthur.
Thump—
If he had been even a little late, the host might have died.
And if the host's death led to his own, Retonicalus—whose ultimate goal was true death—would have welcomed it without hesitation.
But that hope had long since been abandoned.
To Retonicalus, the host’s death meant only one thing—
the beginning of an unending curse.
If the host died, Retonicalus would lose his vessel and revert to being a transcendent being, trapped in isolation from the world until a new host appeared, left incomplete—sometimes taking the form of a monster, sometimes a human, sometimes something far more insignificant.
For countless eons, he had endlessly repeated this cycle of gaining and losing hosts, merely existing.
As if no vessel could truly contain the Undying One, every single one of the thousands had ultimately succumbed to madness and shattered.
Retonicalus believed it was divine punishment for abandoning his own responsibility.
A cruel curse—to exist only as a power, unable to achieve perfect death, to remain forever as a pitiful "Undying One."
It was when Retonicalus had completely resigned himself to this fate that Arthur appeared.
‘He wasn't a normal host, was he?’
Arthur had willingly become the host. Unlike Retonicalus, who yearned for death, Arthur harbored an overwhelming will to survive.
This extraordinary being tore out the Undying One’s heart and implanted it into his own body.
In such cases, the host usually went mad or disintegrated.
But Arthur hadn’t.
Though it was only a part of the Undying One, he accepted the heart, maintained reason, and was able to communicate.
His body endured the transformation without breaking down.
‘I can’t afford to lose the only host who’s given me hope.’
Retonicalus believed Arthur would be the one to finally lead him to perfect death.
Thump—
He quickly examined Arthur. His body was covered in blood, but there wasn't a single wound—only bloodstains remained.
Naturally—he had, if only briefly, become the Undying One.
Retonicalus didn’t care about the injuries. What he was carefully watching for was a single wall—the one that protected Arthur’s soul.
[......Hm.]
As expected, when Retonicalus tried to access Arthur’s soul, a mysterious force blocked him. The wall Arthur had willingly broken down earlier had now rebuilt itself.
That wall was Arthur’s true peculiarity.
‘Just as I thought—it’s restoring itself.’
While acting as Arthur’s heart, Retonicalus had learned many things about him.
That wall included.
It blocked the clash between their souls, allowing Arthur to survive as the vessel of the Undying One. And Retonicalus discovered that not even Arthur could fully dismantle it at will.
Everything had returned to normal.
Thump—
Now, Retonicalus pulsed powerfully, focusing everything on bringing Arthur back to consciousness.
"Assimilation Rate: 75%"
In Arthur’s divine name record, Retonicalus was listed as:
[Heart of Retonicalus – Assimilation Rate 75%]
Arthur didn’t seem to be aware of the physical changes brought by this transformation. But Retonicalus, who had become one with Arthur’s body, could feel them clearly.
As the assimilation rate rose, Arthur’s body was evolving—perfectly adapting to the Undying One’s authority.
Even the earlier moment of breaking the wall and temporarily becoming one with the Undying One—at this level, it now seemed entirely possible.
‘If he reaches 100%...’
He wondered. When that time came, what would happen to Arthur?
No—what would happen to himself?
“Mmn...”
As Arthur let out a groan and his breathing stabilized, Retonicalus curled up in silence. Even for someone who had lived countless ages, this question remained unknown.
Still, that didn’t matter to Retonicalus.
He simply hoped that within that unknown lay the path to perfect death.
***
Three heads were displayed prominently in the central square.
All of them were Cleaners, and in the very center was the beheaded body of their leader—Special Task Leader Richard.
His death had sparked great chaos throughout the city of Aintrier.
Richard was a man of Grand Duke Clarke, one of the most powerful figures in Demtor.
If conflict were to erupt over this, Aintrier would surely be swept into its wake.
War.
The mere thought of that word had citizens tossing and turning in their beds with unease.
And on that dawn...
Tap-tap—
A silent shadow passed through the square. And as morning light broke the darkness, the guards’ shouts rang out beyond the walls.
“L-Lord!!!”
Beside Richard’s displayed corpse lay another all-too-familiar face. It wasn’t just a shout—it was a scream.
“...No way! The Lord would never—!”
A massive crowd surged into the central square as soon as day broke.
Those who had first heard the rumors came with disbelief.
But upon seeing the corpse beside Richard, their expressions turned to horror.
Blood-soaked clothing, its silhouette unmistakable.
Unforgettable ornaments, coins of Midas scattered nearby.
The owner of Aintrier—Azonne Vistas.
Their Lord had been murdered. Once the people realized it, shock gripped the entire city.
“Th-this can’t be...!”
The already chaotic city erupted into even greater commotion. The Lord’s death spread like lightning across the city.
Then, rumors began to circulate.
As signs of foul play were discovered, speculation about assassination surfaced first.
While commoners reacted in uproar, the heads of major merchant groups remained quietly still. They were not like ordinary merchants. Unlike the noisy traders hoping to grasp the shifting tides through gossip, these powerful figures withdrew.
“We must halt commerce for now. I’ll be closing my shop.”
“I'll be in mourning for a week in remembrance of the Lord. Don’t come looking for me.”
The Cleaners had died, and now the Lord. Then someone had left Azonne’s body next to Richard’s.
The clever merchants realized—this wasn’t a coincidence.
“...A bloodbath is coming.”
When the head of a power changes, blood always follows.
They hunkered down, waiting for the purge to pass—at least until the new master revealed themselves.
Meanwhile, some had already figured out who was behind the deaths of both men and had begun to act.
“It was the World Tree Union!”
The mages of Demtor, currently staying in Aintrier, remembered the recent Dark Sales party hosted by Azonne vividly.
[Then who brought the Cleaners staying on the second floor?]
The only one to mention them back then—was the Union’s representative, Alex Marcia.
Halyans, Elder of the Ivory Tower and representative of the mages, recalled the tension between Azonne and Alex at that party.
The moment they clashed, Halyans had known a storm would come.
“...But I never thought they’d draw their blades this swiftly.”
While some merchants speculated the World Tree Union was behind it, it was mere suspicion.
But Halyans was certain.
That the Union had orchestrated this entire event.
“What should we do?”
“Where is he now?”
“You mean Lord Alex?”
Halyans nodded.
If the Union was truly involved, he couldn’t act rashly.
After all, he had once conspired with Azonne to eliminate Witch Lily at that party—before backing out.
“Who knows what Azonne said before he died...”
Anxiety crept up even while standing still. If they could eliminate both the Cleaners and Azonne, that meant their force far surpassed the mages.
‘How strong is the Union, really?’
They’d only started learning about the World Tree Union since Alex appeared at Dark Sales.
Even Halyans, an Elder of the Ivory Tower, still didn’t have accurate information.
But the Union wasn’t the issue—
‘Alex Marcia... I must understand him first!’
“Tell me everything you know about Alex.”
“We don’t know much in detail...”
“Then hurry and find out! Go now! Contact the merchants who were on good terms with him first!”
The mages kicked into motion.
Watching them from the window, Fenry Chaser smirked playfully.
“Shall we start shaking things up?”
Clenching his long pipe between his teeth, Fenry vanished into the shadows.
***
The next day.
“Elder! Elder Halyans!”
“Why the commotion?”
A crowd of mages rushed in, pale and breathless.
Moments later, Halyans burst out of his quarters, eyes wide.
Nagrok's corpse.
The corpse of the Sub-Tower Master of the Ivory Tower had been found in the square.
With that, the mages could no longer stay still.
And then, rumors began to spread from someone’s lips:
[Azonne colluded with the Cleaners through the Black Market.]
[Together, they planned to assassinate Nagrok.]
[Azonne’s faction orchestrated the assassination. He was killed in retaliation by the merchants involved.]
The first name on the list was the recently fallen Everlin Company—known for dealing in demi-human slaves.
Soon, other merchant groups loyal to the Lord also began appearing on the list.
Those exposed could no longer hide.
The rumors grew bolder.
“It’s a lie! This is all lies!”
They tried to mobilize the information guilds to suppress the rumors—but it was too late.
The guilds, which had always handled the merchants’ dirty work, now rejected them outright.
Every guild leader issued the same warning:
“Go to the mages. Beg for forgiveness. These rumors—no matter how they started—will become truth.”
“What do you mean?!”
“Because he confirmed it.”
“He? Who the hell is he—”
“Alex Marcia.”
The guild leaders swallowed hard as they spoke his name.
“He’s the true master of this city now. If you want to live, don’t draw his ire.”
And by that evening, a shattering declaration swept across Aintrier—
[I am the one who killed the Cleaners and Azonne—Alex Marcia.]
It wasn’t just a rumor. It was a proclamation—a declaration of rule.
Merchants’ faces turned pale.
“Find Alex! No—find His Excellency immediately!”
They scrambled, desperately seeking Alex, terrified of sharing the same fate as the Everfell family.
And it wasn’t just the merchants.
“Where is His Excellency?!”
“His location is still unknown.”
“Find him! Bring him! We must be first to reach him!”
Halyans, Elder of the Ivory Tower—had begun referring to Alex with reverence as His Excellency.
He had once made a verbal pact with Alex at the party, but that wasn’t enough now.
He needed a solid agreement, a guarantee.
‘If things go well...’
Halyans swallowed dryly. If he could secure Alex’s favor, there was hope he could even redirect the tide of Demtor.
“I—I’ll go myself!”
Halyans couldn’t sit still.
He pressured every mage in the city to search for Arthur.
But after a full day, not even the slightest trace was found.
Panic set in.
“Find him!”
“Find that man!”
In less than two days, the mood in Aintrier had completely flipped—from Azonne to Arthur.
And as everyone scoured the city with wide, desperate eyes—
“E-Elder Halyans! He’s here! He’s come!”
“What? Who?”
“Alex Marcia!”
Alex Marcia, the World Tree Union’s representative, had come to meet Halyans in person.