Master Assassin of the Ronan

Chapter 26. Elder Gillifield’s Arboretum (3)

The way to become the King of the Roincrows was simple: one had to win in the ritual of the “Sacred Race” for the throne.

Of course, the process itself was far from simple.

After hearing Rubin’s explanation, Tina pressed her lips tightly together.

“So, if I win this, uh, race, I can become the King?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

The Blood-Transformation Tribe had the ability to transform into other creatures.

And it wasn’t just a simple transformation for them.

Each Blood-Transformation Tribe had a unique trait, one they could apply to the creature they transformed into.

Rubin was well aware of Tina’s particular trait.

“Tina, among the Blood-Transformation Tribe, there’s no one who can rival you in terms of ‘speed,’ right?”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m quite perceptive.”

Inborn speed—Tina could unleash incredible swiftness, no matter what creature she became.

It was the reason she had evaded the relentless pursuit of the Lang Execution Unit so effortlessly.

“So, this is why you brought me here—to make me into some puppet King. Ha… But, I guess it’s still better than killing people.”

Accepting this task wasn’t a matter of choice.

Tina was fully aware that she owed her life to Rubin.

It was simply something she had to do.

Piiing.

Tina transformed from a girl back into a Roincrow. Her body turned large, a dark shade of black, her sharp beak slicing through the air as she tested it.

Watching Tina’s mint-colored eyes as she transformed, Elder Gillifield scoffed.

“Do you think you have what it takes? The ‘Sacred Race’ isn’t just a simple flight competition. Plenty end up hurt or killed, and finishing first isn’t exactly easy.”

“Quiet, old man! Whatever the race is, I’m confident I can handle it.”

Even for a family that had studied crows for over 700 years, it was rare to see a crow wink and talk back like a person. Phynik simply stared at her, his mouth slightly open, stunned by everything she said.

But Gillifield wasn’t optimistic.

“Hmph, arrogant, aren’t you? No matter how fast you are, don’t underestimate the Roincrows.”

Before Tina could respond, Rubin stepped in.

“Gillifield. Tina will compete, regardless of your doubts. Please, just watch her. If you have any advice, share it.”

“Since the last potential candidate vanished, a violent and unruly group has taken control. The leader of that group stands the best chance of becoming the Crow King, and he’s bound to be a tyrant.”

“Oh, I like this story! So, I get to be the hero who takes down the demon king?”

Tina, still in her Roincrow form, burst into laughter, her voice echoing through the forest, and the elder grimaced at the sight.

“Laugh it up, why don’t you. That one has a lot of followers. Even if you take the lead, they’ll try to stop you, so be careful not to get surrounded. Though knowing and avoiding it aren’t the same.”

Gillifield’s tone grew more serious.

There was an issue that had to be resolved before anyone could win the race among the crows.

And this was exactly why the Tree Guardians had anticipated Seiren’s visit instead of Rubin’s.

“Who wins, in the end, is secondary. There’s a much graver issue at hand.”

“Huh? There’s something more important than whether I come in first or not?”

“The flight to determine the King doesn’t just start whenever we want it to.”

“Then?”

“The chosen one must climb to the top of the ‘Mist Tree’ and give the starting signal. Only then will the poisonous mist blanketing the upper branches disperse. That’s the official start of the ‘Sacred Race.’”

“The chosen one? That’s a pretty obnoxious term.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But that’s because you, a Blood-Transformation Tribe, aren’t the ‘chosen one.’”

Gillifield’s gaze turned toward Rubin.

The signal to start the race, and the chosen one.

Only those of Ronan blood could perform the task.

The Ronan bloodline, which held the origins of Dark Ripple. It was the only bloodline pure enough to cleanse and revive the Mist Tree.

“The Ronan’s signal. That’s what initiates the ‘Sacred Race.’”

“I’ll do it. That’s the reason I came here.”

Hearing this, both Elder Gillifield and Phynik shook their heads.

As determined as the nine-year-old young master was, some things were simply out of reach.

“If it were Seiren, she could do it without issue, but anyone else of Ronan blood… especially a child like you!”

The top of the Mist Tree was nothing short of a tower.

To reach it, one had to climb up the trunk. If it were just a cliff, perhaps it’d be possible, but this was no simple task.

The poisonous mist grew thicker the closer one got to the summit. The poison was far deadlier than the mist that encircled the Ronan estate.

And as for the fierce winds that never ceased—they were brutal enough to tear anyone climbing the tree apart.

Phynik spoke up, concerned.

“Young Master, this is too much. Why not ask the Master for help?”

“No, I’m going up myself.”

Hearing Rubin’s resolute reply, Gillifield’s face turned red with frustration as he tried to talk him out of it.

“You can’t be serious! Do you intend to ruin everything? If you fail midway, we’ll have no idea what effect it will have on the Mist Tree—or on the Roincrows!”

“Young Master, we’re the experts here. You need to listen to us! If you fail halfway, then…!”

But Rubin remained calm.

“Gillifield, Phynik, you’re right, but this issue concerns the Ronan family, no, all of the Assassin Blade Family. If we don’t resolve it quickly, we won’t be able to supply Roincrows at the crucial time. I’ll handle it, so I must press forward.”

What on earth did he have planned to speak with such confidence?

The Tree Guardians couldn’t tell.

“What exactly do you intend to do once you’re up there?”

“I’ll reach the summit and infuse it with pure Dark Ripple. That’s the only way for Tina’s race to begin. Isn’t that correct?”

“Easier said than done!”

Gillifield’s grumbling sounded like a complaint, but Rubin knew it was a form of permission.

Rubin didn’t waver.

And Tina, if anything, looked just as calm—perhaps even excited. She spread her black wings and hopped over the table.

“I’m ready whenever. Kid, you can do it, right?”

She recalled the incident with Grokal Lang from before.

Though the Tree Guardians saw Rubin as just a nine-year-old, Tina knew he was different.

Rubin looked at Tina and answered.

“Just focus on your flight. Don’t get distracted.”

As dawn began to break, the darkness had lightened a bit, though the “Mist Tree” was always shrouded, even at noon, in its shadowy air.

As they climbed up the higher branches, Elder Gillifield and Phynik chewed herbs that neutralized the poison in the mist seeping into their bodies.

Noticing the two of them, thousands of Roincrows began watching with eyes of various colors.

There was no hostility.

They had long accepted the Tree Guardians as neighbors in the “Mist Tree.”

“They’re aware of it.”

“Aware of what?”

“That Rubin is climbing toward the top of the tree. It’s because the tree and the crows are all connected by Dark Ripple.”

The Roincrows could also tell.

They knew when a climber was strong or weak.

“They’re skeptical, of course.”

It was only natural. Compared to the Ronan head Seiren, the little boy was weak.

And now he intended to reach the summit, restore the tree, and start the race for a new king?

As expected, some crows remained doubtful, preparing reluctantly for the race, while others showed no interest at all.

Seeing this, Gillifield shook his head.

“Let’s hope this isn’t a waste of time.”

Meanwhile.

“Rubin, kid, get up there faster. If I revert back, things will get messy.”

The Roincrows stood with wings open and beaks pointed skyward, ready for the race. Tina was among them.

With her mint-colored eyes gleaming, she let out a piercing cry, a sound unique to a Roincrow about to race.

Grrrk.

Grrrrrr.

Tina noticed a group of Roincrows glaring at her fiercely.

It was the gang Gillifield had warned her about, the ones currently in control.

“So, you think you can glare at me? Just wait until I’m king. You’ll be the first ones to get punished.”

Reading her look, the crows shook their heads and cawed menacingly.

A large one with a scarred beak snapped its beak threateningly, the tip gleaming like a blade.

“…Hmm.”

Pretending not to notice, Tina averted her gaze.

Meanwhile, high above the space where the Roincrows gathered, Rubin fought against the harsh winds at the middle of the “Mist Tree.”

Whiiiiing.

The wind was sharp, like a spear.

The enormous trunk had deep scars, marks left by the relentless winds.

“Haa… haa…”

Rubin drove daggers into the trunk to anchor himself, but it was hard to keep his grip.

His heavy robe had already been sliced up in places by the sharp wind.

“Well, thanks to you, I’m seeing things I never imagined I’d see.”

It was a remark from Haneke.

As someone who’d once led the imperial army, even he was unaccustomed to such an environment.

The “Mist Tree” and “Sacred Race” were all new concepts.

The existence of the Assassin Blade Family and the mysterious world surrounding them were things he had never even imagined.

“A massive tree, mysterious crows. Maybe dying wasn’t so bad if I got to see this.”

‘Look forward to it. There’s still plenty… of excitement to come.’

Rubin found a foothold and placed himself upon the daggers lodged side-by-side.

“Hoo…”

The fog thickened as he neared the summit.

Now, gray walls surrounded him on all sides.

Soon, the domain of the poisonous mist would appear.

“Telmach’s first target was here.”

In his previous life, Emperor Telmach had sent his imperial army here, to the “Mist Tree,” just before revealing the existence of the Assassin Blade Family.

It had been a massive assault, with Blood-Transformation Tribe battalions, sorcerer units, and tens of thousands of imperial troops.

The enormous trunk Rubin now clung to had been chopped down, thousands of Roincrows without masters perished, and the eggs awaiting hatching were mercilessly destroyed.

“That’s… horrible…”

As Rubin recalled the mist tree engulfed in flames, he clenched his teeth.

‘Everything that lived here burned. The tree that had stood for centuries, the thousands of Roincrows, even Elder Gillifield and Phynik.’

But this time, things would be different.

This time, it wouldn’t be the Mist Tree that burned and collapsed but Telmach’s imperial palace.

There was no time for hesitation. Rubin turned toward the summit and, with daggers in both hands, continued climbing up the trunk.

Whiiiing.

“Argh!”

Suddenly, Rubin’s body wavered as if struck by a cannon.

Holding tightly to the daggers lodged in the tree, he gathered all his strength.

‘Dark Ripple. I need to use Dark Ripple.’

Rubin focused Dark Ripple in his arms, feeling warmth and stability return to his limbs.

“There’s no way I’m falling here.”

The poisonous mist grew denser as he neared the summit.

It was a poison surpassing anything Rubin had ever experienced, even across his two lives.

Thanks to the mist encircling the Ronan estate, he believed he had some immunity, but the poison guarding the Mist Tree was on another level.

-Rubin! Stay focused! A fall from here would be the end!

-Rubin! You’re almost there!

Even with Haneke’s voice echoing in his mind, he was losing consciousness momentarily.

But he never let go of the daggers gripped tightly in his hands. Rubin kept his gaze fixed on the summit, honing his desire for revenge against the Emperor like a blade.

“Arghhhh!”

Each time his consciousness began to fade, Rubin stretched his arms upward, yelling as he climbed, locked in an endless battle with himself.

Meanwhile, below where the Roincrows had gathered, the atmosphere was starting to shift.

Tina, Gillifield, and Phynik all noticed the restless stir among the Roincrows.

Kaak!

Kaak! Kaak!

The cries of thousands of birds echoed through the forest.

Even the skeptical Roincrows who doubted Rubin’s chances of reaching the summit had spread their wings and pointed their beaks upward.

“Grandfather, what’s happening? Why are the Roincrows suddenly…?”

Gillifield let out a surprised chuckle.

“Seems I underestimated him. Watch closely, Phynik. The Roincrows are preparing for the ‘Sacred Race.’ That means Seiren’s son is almost at the summit.”

Though his voice trembled with emotion, he quickly regained his composure, knowing there was still one crucial task left, even after reaching the top.

At that moment, a Roincrow approached the two.

This Roincrow, with mint-colored eyes, was Tina.

She, too, could feel Rubin nearing the top, her Roincrow instincts attuned to his progress.

Little by little, as she perched there transformed, she felt a strange vibration throughout her body.

“Old man, I told you, didn’t I? Rubin’s no ordinary kid.”

“Don’t get cocky. It’s not over yet.”

“You mean the Dark Ripple infusion, right? Don’t worry. That kid may look small, but he’s got a lot of Dark Ripple in him.”

“Compared to Seiren, though, it’s practically nothing. If Rubin loses consciousness while infusing Dark Ripple, well… I don’t even want to imagine what might happen.”

“Loses consciousness? What would happen?”

“The chosen one must continue the infusion until the race ends. If it’s interrupted… many Roincrows in the race will go insane, becoming crazed crows that devour every living thing.”

“W-what?!”

Unconsciously picturing such a horrifying scenario, Tina shuddered, fluffing her wings to shake off the chilling thought.

“Whether it’s you or some other crow, you’ll have to finish the race before Rubin collapses. Understood?”

In the end, the only way to avoid a disaster was to end the race as quickly as possible.

“G-Grandfather! The mist is clearing!”

Phynik shouted. It was true. The mist surrounding them was gradually lifting. Rubin had reached the summit.

“Hurry, get ready, Tina!”

“I know, old man!”

Like the other Roincrows, Tina spread her wings wide to touch the ground and aimed her beak toward the tree’s peak.

Kaaak!

Kaaak!

Kaaak! Kaak!

The cries of countless Roincrows erupted at once, their voices booming as though the Mist Tree itself were quaking from an earthquake.

“The Roincrows…! Young Master Rubin is infusing pure Dark Ripple, isn’t he, Grandfather?”

“Yes. It seems he’s done it.”

The mist was thinning more and more. Once it was entirely gone and the towering peak came into view, the race would begin.

And just seconds later—

Kaaak!

Kaaak!

With the summit barely visible like the tip of a needle in the distance, the Roincrows launched into the sky.

The “Sacred Race” had begun.