The lavish sitting room of the mansion was unusually quiet. A gentle breeze slipped through half-drawn curtains, rustling the papers on a nearby table. The soft tick of a golden clock echoed faintly beneath the hush of tension. Baron the Living Blade sat comfortably on a long couch, legs crossed, an open newspaper spread out before him. His silver hair, loose and disheveled, framed a face carved with pride and old fury. He read aloud, his tone hovering somewhere between amusement and disdain.
> "'Disaster Strikes the Capital: Who is to Blame for the Monster Catastrophe?'"
He chuckled, the sound sharp and dry.
> "Only a fragment of Cerberus, and they're already losing their minds. You two did well."
Lagos and Satgas stood before him. They said nothing. They knew better than to mistake his praise for warmth.
Baron lowered the paper slightly, revealing glinting eyes beneath his half-lowered lashes. "I didn't expect it to do this much damage," he admitted, "but the outcome pleases me. The chaos we need is now in motion. Even he must be satisfied. Right, Omatsuri?"
The man standing silently at his side—tall, gaunt, dressed in a crumpled tuxedo and armed with a slender blade at his hip—nodded once.
"Yes," Omatsuri said in a flat voice. "The Big Boss will be pleased."
Satgas cleared his throat, stepping forward half a pace. "We had projected interference from the Frost Queen. As expected, she made a move. The problem was neutralized once a General arrived from headquarters… but we encountered something else. Someone. Unexpected."
Baron's brow arched lazily. "A new player?"
Lagos hesitated, eyes flicking to Satgas. "Not exactly new. Just... forgotten."
Baron's voice sharpened. "Speak clearly."
Satgas took a breath. "The one who disrupted our trial run. An old warrior. People call him the Black Death."
For a moment, the world seemed to still.
The newspaper crumpled beneath Baron's tightening grip. The air thickened. Even the curtains ceased their flutter.
"What did you say?" His voice was low, like the rumble before a landslide.
"Canis Majoris," Lagos said, as if confessing a sin. "The Black Death. He's returned."
There was a sound—somewhere between a bone snapping and a thunderclap—as the newspaper tore in half under Baron's grip. His aura burst outward, an invisible wall of pressure that made the chandelier sway and the coffee table in front of him groan ominously. Omatsuri narrowed his eyes but stood still.
Baron rose, slowly, like a blade drawn from its sheath.
His eyes—once amused, now ablaze with hatred—swept over Lagos and Satgas like executioner's steel.
"You're telling me that bastard is still breathing?" His voice was hoarse, and yet each syllable struck like a hammer.
Lagos and Satgas didn't respond.
"He disappeared for years," Satgas finally said. "Hid among the commoners. He's working as a receptionist in a northern Guild Branch. We've confirmed it."
Baron laughed.
But it wasn't laughter—it was a sound dragged up from the gut of something old and broken.
"Seven years," he spat. "Seven years since that cursed day. You think I've forgotten what he did to me?"
He took a step forward, the wooden floor creaking beneath his boots.
"You think this title," he growled, "this seat, this Luxury—means I've moved on?"
Omatsuri's expression didn't change, but the tightness in his grip on his blade said enough. Baron's fury was always dangerous. But this—this was something deeper.
"I am Baron the Living Blade," he whispered. "I became one of the All Stars. I reach this level only to kill you. I was meant to ascend—!"
His voice cracked, then fell into silence.
A single breath passed.
Then Baron's eyes fixed on them with lethal clarity.
"You said he's working in a Guild?"
"At a branch 48 near the Northern Reaches," Lagos confirmed. "But he's begun to move again. He's interfering our Mission several times."
Baron's jaw tensed. His hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles went pale.
"Then I'll go there myself," he said. "I'll walk into that building, and I'll put my blade through his throat. I'll erase the memory of that day."
Omatsuri stepped forward. "It will draw attention. The Empire may retaliate."
"Let them," Baron growled. "Let them try. Let them send their dogs. Let the newspapers print it in gold ink: 'The Living Blade slays the Black Death.'"
Satgas's voice trembled, uncertain. "Boss, if we escalate now, we risk the entire structure we've built—"
Baron silenced him with a glare.
"Do you think I care?" he snapped. "Everything I've done for the past seven years—every duel, every kill, every day I sharpened my Power in silence—it was all for him."
He turned toward the door.
"Omatsuri. Ready the warriors."
Omatsuri's voice was low. "Are you sure? The Big Boss won't like this."
Baron didn't even glance back. "He can get in line."
He paused at the doorway, fingers gripping the frame. His voice, quieter now, was filled with something that sounded almost like pain.
"You know what burns the most?" he asked. "He didn't even speak. He defeated me... and left. No words. No explanation. As if I wasn't even worth a memory."
He looked over his shoulder. His eyes, shadowed by fury, locked with Lagos's.
"I've lived every day under the weight of that silence. And now—now I will answer it with blood."
With that, Baron the Living Blade stepped out into the hall, his fury trailing behind him like the wake of a sword unsheathed mid-battle. The air he left behind was scorched with purpose.
Omatsuri remained in the room a moment longer. He exhaled slowly, and for the first time in years, his eyes betrayed something that almost looked like concern.
Behind him, Lagos whispered to Satgas.
"Do you think he'll really kill Canis?"
Satgas didn't answer. His gaze remained fixed on the doorway where Baron had vanished.
"I think," he said finally, "Baron doesn't care if he dies trying."
And in that silence, deep within a mansion wrapped in luxury but shadowed by vengeance, the wheels of something terrible began to turn.
{Chapter 54 end}