Failed Possession Chapter-66

## Ch-66.

—

The Orsia Family, boasting a history of several centuries, was more magnificent and splendid than any house Yuri had ever seen in this world—no, even counting Lee Su-hyeok’s life on Earth. By Earth’s standards alone, one might mistake it for a grand cultural complex like an art hall rather than a residence.

As a martial house, it naturally possessed a training ground several times the size of a school field, along with numerous other buildings and facilities.

Seeing scenery and architecture once viewed only in a game rendered on an old, small monitor created a jarring sense of dissonance. The crude graphics that once appeared on a worn-out screen now carried a completely different impact when witnessed in reality.

If mere scenery could feel that overwhelming—what of people?

Level 90—second only to the Heavenly Demon—yet widely regarded by the community as “overrated trash,” supposedly easier than the level-80 archmages. The Patriarch of the Orsia Family, famed for being the endgame farming spot for swordsman builds, much like the Ascad Family was for Elixir farming.

The First Sovereign of the Martial Zeniths.

Sword Emperor Alvator Orsia.

—In person, the Sword Emperor radiated a pressure so immense that the word “overrated” could not even come to mind.

Seronis had no NPC illustrations.

Several skilled community members had tried creating mods to insert them, but whenever one attempted to apply mods or external programs, the game would simply freeze. Thus, the cursed indie game had to be played in its pure form.

Looking back, that was only natural—it had never been a simple game to begin with.

In any case, in Seronis—where one could not even insert a common illustration through mods—imagining the true appearance of NPCs had always been difficult.

Blurred dot graphics where facial features were barely distinguishable. Female NPCs occasionally received fan art from the community. Popular figures—like Extreme Arsen or the Heavenly Demon—sometimes received fan art even if male, thanks to their difficulty and gimmicks.

The Sword Emperor, being nominally the second strongest, had fan art as well…

“…”

Most of it, however, was comedic fan art—grotesquely exaggerated, mixing in memes and parody scenes.

With Orca, at least, the fan art and reality had felt similar enough to lessen the dissonance. With the Sword Emperor, however, the difference between fan art and reality was vast.

His exact age was unknown.

As the grandfather of the twenty-two-year-old Sword Dragon, he had to be at least in his sixties or seventies—perhaps older.

Thanks to rejuvenation, there were few wrinkles on his face. His blue eyes, the same color as Sword Dragon’s, were deep and profound, and his golden hair had faded in brilliance.

Judging by his face alone, he seemed more like an elder brother with a significant age gap rather than a grandfather. Yet the atmosphere was entirely different. Like Heavenly Thunder Orca, warriors or mages who had undergone rejuvenation possessed a distinct aura.

“So you went to Zone Four.”

The Sword Emperor spoke from his seat.

From the moment he entered the room, Yuri felt everything become strange. Simply standing felt uncomfortable—as though even the act of pressing his feet against the ground was unnatural. His skin tingled and prickled. His pounding heart no longer felt self-driven, but as if someone were squeezing and releasing it by hand to make it beat.

It was because of the Sword Emperor.

The man mocked in the game as overrated emitted overwhelming pressure merely by sitting still. It felt as though thousands—no, tens of thousands—of invisible blades filled the space, pinning Yuri in place.

Haryeong felt a chill as well.

When she had still belonged to the Tang Family, the Sword Emperor had once visited.

He had claimed he wished to find his son and daughter-in-law, who had vanished leaving behind only a letter.

That had been the surface reason. Even the young Haryeong had sensed how openly he suspected the assassination sect.

At the time, the assassination sect itself had been in turmoil.

The sudden seclusion of the Supreme Patriarch, Poison King Tang Ji-hu. It had been an unannounced seclusion—one whose reason he had not shared even with his family. To this day, even Haryeong did not know why he had suddenly withdrawn.

After the Poison King’s seclusion, Haryeong had been thoroughly isolated within the Tang Family. When the Sword Emperor had visited, she had not even been permitted to stand before him. She had not been allowed to learn the Tang Family’s martial arts and had been treated like a ghost.

Having never met him directly, there was no reason for him to recognize her.

And yet—

She distinctly felt his gaze.

‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have come.’

The fleeting thought was dismissed. She had committed no crime. There was no reason to avoid him.

“I have heard the news.”

The gaze lasted only a moment. The Sword Emperor withdrew his attention from Haryeong and fixed his eyes on Sword Dragon.

“Three days ago, there was significant unrest in the Evil Hamlet related to cultists.”

“Yes.”

Sword Dragon’s posture was upright and dignified. He believed he had done the right thing.

“Though I apologize for acting without permission, the result was favorable.”

“You do not look apologetic.”

“My apologies.”

At the Sword Emperor’s muttered remark, Sword Dragon bowed deeply. The Sword Emperor stared silently at his grandson’s crown.

“That will do. Raise your head.”

With a short sigh, the Sword Emperor waved his hand. Sword Dragon immediately lifted his head with a grin.

“You forgive me?”

“I would scold you for undertaking reckless action without permission, but I cannot do so before the guests you have brought. So then—who are these guests?”

His gaze shifted and settled upon Yuri.

—A sensation like a blade sweeping up from the soles of his feet.

Every hair on Yuri’s body stood on end. His legs trembled, threatening to collapse, and he forced strength into them to remain upright. The Sword Emperor studied him for a moment, then let out a brief chuckle and withdrew his pressure.

“My apologies. Upon seeing a young man brimming with talent, I tested you without thinking.”

Only then could Yuri steady his breathing.

‘This is the “overrated” Sword Emperor?’

If the Sword Emperor was this overwhelming, how powerful must the Heavenly Demon be?

Grasping his spinning thoughts, Yuri spoke.

“My name is Yuri. I am known by the title Thunder Cloud.”

“I am Haryeong of the Salho Gate. My title is Dark Flower.”

The Sword Emperor fell silent for a moment, studying them both.

“Thunder Cloud.”

He addressed Yuri first.

“Are you a disciple of Fist Wolf and Full-Moon Play?”

Mentioning the two meant he knew of the first rumors surrounding Yuri. Without hesitation, Yuri shook his head.

“I learned martial arts from Fist Wolf. Though he did not wish to formally accept me as a disciple, I consider him my master. As for Full-Moon Play, I have received no direct instruction.”

“Then do you belong elsewhere?”

“No.”

“I would have you become a knight of Orsia. What is your answer?”

The proposal was sudden—but Sword Dragon did not appear surprised. Instead, he looked at Yuri with a grin, as though he had expected this.

The Orsia Family was regarded above even the Five Great Clans of the Righteous Alliance or the Six Dark Sects of the Black Dragon Society. It was not a house one could form ties with merely through talent.

This was their first meeting, and the rumors about Yuri were not particularly grand. Yet the Sword Emperor had immediately offered him a position as a knight of Orsia.

“I am grateful. However, I do not yet wish to bind myself to any house.”

“Regrettable. Should your mind change, return to Orsia.”

He did not press further, but he left the door clearly open.

“Dark Flower of the Salho Gate. How fares Heavenly Thunder?”

“I am not someone who meets her frequently.”

“That would be so. And the Faceless Killer?”

“It has been long since I last saw him.”

“The Poison King?”

The questioning continued.

“I find it difficult to discern the intent behind your words.”

Haryeong answered without changing her expression.

The Sword Emperor studied her for a moment longer, then slowly nodded.

“I have spoken out of turn. Pay it no mind.”

“Yes.”

“Bairen.”

At his call, the door opened. The butler waiting outside bowed and entered.

“You summoned me?”

“While I discipline my troublesome grandson, escort the guests to their rooms.”

“You said you wouldn’t scold me.”

Sword Dragon looked aggrieved, but the Sword Emperor’s response was firm.

“Should I not hear the details of what happened in the Evil Hamlet?”

In the end, only Sword Dragon remained in the room.

As Sword Dragon began sighing heavily and openly, the Sword Emperor let out an identical sigh.

“You brat.”

“Yes.”

“Why do you sigh so rudely in front of your grandfather?”

“I can’t help it if a sigh comes out.”

“Did you bring guests so you wouldn’t be scolded?”

“I did not bring them for such petty reasons.”

“Then why?”

“You must have seen and felt it as well, Patriarch.”

“Seen what?”

“Thunder Cloud.”

Excitement colored Sword Dragon’s voice.

“He’s the same age as me. The same Fifth Rank. And yet—”

“Enough.”

Before his grandson could ramble on in agitation, the Sword Emperor cut him off.

“First, tell me in detail what occurred in the Evil Hamlet.”

Panteleon’s outer zones had long been the Sword Emperor’s headache. Zones One and Two had no choice but to be granted graded citizenship. But zone Three—the neutral zone—zone Four—the lawless zone—and zone Five—which continued expanding even now with unauthorized migration from villagers—would never be recognized as citizens of Panteleon.

Fifty years ago, refugees displaced by rifts had been allowed temporary residence out of pity. Now those brazen people treated Panteleon’s goodwill as an inherent right and demanded ever more unreasonable concessions.

“I merely went to confirm information that there was a cult gathering.”

At that answer, the Sword Emperor sighed again.

“Why did you not seek my permission?”

“The information was uncertain. I wished to verify it with my own eyes first.”

“You did more than verify it.”

“…”

“I can guess the rest. You saw it and could not restrain yourself, could you?”

“…Yes… well…”

“I wonder whose temper you inherited. What’s done is done. So what exactly happened?”

Sword Dragon did not make excuses. He recounted everything that had occurred at the gathering.

His first meeting with Thunder Cloud and Dark Flower.

Hunting cultists.

Dispersing the gathering.

The collapse of the ceiling.

The Sixth Circle bishop.

The Young Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult and Sword Shadow of the Seven Evils.

The Old Crone’s mansion.

The Sword Emperor listened without interruption. When the tale ended, he released a long breath.

“It is a wonder you returned alive.”

“…”

“Had you been alone, what then? Do you think you could have handled a Sixth Circle mage—one who even wielded divine power—by yourself?”

“I could have escaped.”

“That is uncertain. And Sword Shadow of the Seven Evils? If it had been not Sword Shadow but the Rakshasa Witch or the Three-Eyed Beast, one of the mad demons, you would not have escaped at all—you would have died.”

Those two were among the Seven Evils of the Demonic Cult, infamous for their eccentric and brutal natures.

“I apologize.”

Sword Dragon’s shoulders drooped.

“There is no need to apologize. Regardless of the process, you succeeded in killing the bishop who used the foul district as a parish, found a tool to track fleeing cultists, and returned alive without calamity.”

The Sword Emperor rose and approached his grandson, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“And you recovered the Cult’s directive as well. With this as justification, we may finally separate the troublesome outer zones.”

Though no riot had actually occurred, there had been the threat of one. The Orsia Family was not alone in wanting grounds to restructure the outer zones. Panteleon also housed the Selvis Magic Tower and other great houses.

“What of the Young Cult Leader?” the Sword Emperor asked.

“The Demonic Cult’s Young Leader. Disciple of the Heavenly Demon. Rumored to exist, yet never properly identified. Estor—what sort of person was she, in your eyes?”

“She called herself Bi-yeon. A woman… I did not hear her age, but she did not seem younger than I. Severe burns marked her wrists, arms, and neck. Her voice was hoarse and rough from fire damage. She refused to remove her mask—likely because her face bears heavy burns as well.”

“And her martial arts?”

“I felt black aura dominating space itself.”

“The Heavenly Demon Divine Art.”

The Sword Emperor smiled faintly.

“A perplexing and destructive art—demonic, yet not quite demonic. If at Fifth tier she already exerts dominion over space, she has entered the realm of intent. Indeed, worthy of being the Heavenly Demon’s disciple.”

“Yet I did not feel she surpassed me. In particular, she showed impatience and carelessness. When the bishop attempted mutual destruction, she faltered.”

“That is not for you to say. Your temper is equally fiery and rash. Is that not why you drew your sword alone at the gathering—and later nearly died after drinking an unidentified reagent in the bishop’s mansion?”

Sword Dragon was left speechless.

“You owe Thunder Cloud and Dark Flower greatly.”

“Yes. Without Thunder Cloud, fighting the bishop would have been difficult. Without Dark Flower, I would have died from the reagent.”

“Both situations arose from your own recklessness.”

“Yes.”

“And because of debts incurred by your own mistakes, you would open Orsia’s treasury?”

“Yes.”

He did not retreat. His shamelessly resolute tone drew a dry laugh from the Sword Emperor.

“Why should I allow that?”

“Because I have already promised.”

“You cannot lie?”

“They aided one called the future of Orsia. One day, I shall become Patriarch. In that sense, what lies in the treasury will eventually be mine. Is it not acceptable to open it a little early?”

“You impudent brat.”

The Sword Emperor laughed again and nodded.

“They requested elixirs?”

“Yes. Though they have encountered various fortuitous events, it seems their time cultivating martial arts has been short. They feel lacking in internal energy.”

“Then Ascad’s gift will suffice.”

At that mutter, Sword Dragon stiffened.

“Ascad’s gift… You mean the Elixir?”

“Yes.”

“Are you serious?”

“You speak of opening the treasury early as if it were yours. Yet you balk at an Elixir?”

“I would gladly have gifted one myself, but I did not expect you to part with it.”

“They helped resolve Panteleon’s headache and saved the life of my flawed and irritating grandson. An Elixir is the least we can offer.”

With that, the Sword Emperor rose.

“As I said earlier, I desire Thunder Cloud. Enough to wish him as a knight of Orsia. Though he declined, he will not forget the Elixir he receives today. If I build goodwill by gifting him an Elixir originally given by that Ascad fellow, it is hardly a loss.”

“And Dark Flower?”

“Yes. Dark Flower… that child is… hm. Merely forming a connection with her secures an opportunity.”

“The Poison King…?”

“If that child does not wish it spoken, then do not ask.”

The Sword Emperor recalled twenty years ago.

He had been unable to accept the letter left by his son and daughter-in-law. A letter without explanation—estrangement, seclusion.

It was only natural to misunderstand.

The letter must have been false. They had declared estrangement to avoid pursuit—they must have been assassinated.

And in this world, none killed more expertly or discreetly than the assassination sect governed by the Tang Family.

He had not wished to suspect them. He had deep ties with the Supreme Patriarch, the Poison King.

But the Poison King had secluded himself.

Bearing suspicion, he had gone to the assassination sect and requested a search for his son and daughter-in-law.

In that process, the misunderstanding had been cleared. Having traveled so far, he had wished to see the Poison King’s face again—but the secluded patriarch could not be met.

Before returning to Panteleon—

—he had seen that child from afar.

Once a year, he and the Poison King had exchanged letters, writing briefly of their well-being.

In one such letter, there had been mention of a child with two tear-shaped beauty marks.

“What a peculiar fate.”

The Sword Emperor murmured softly as he left the room.