Chapter 149 - Damn Reincarnation

A Sickbed Visit

This unbearable awkwardness.

If his body were in decent shape, he could at least turn his head or shift his position. As he was now, moving anything below his neck was an ordeal. So Eugene stared awkwardly at the crown of Doynes’s deeply bowed head.

“... Look... you’re not exactly in good shape yourself... Stop doing that and sit down, will you?”

“I am fine.”

“No, what do you mean, fine? I hear you’ve got a hole in your chest. I’ve had, well, a hole in my chest myself, so I know very well how that feels.”

Recalling his past life, Eugene stumbled on.

“It feels fucking awful and hollow, doesn’t it? Hmm... um... well... The hole I had was probably bigger, though. I couldn’t walk around like you. I just lay there waiting to die, you know?”

“You are remarkable.”

That was the response he received. Embarrassed by what he had said, Eugene cleared his throat.

“... Um... I wasn’t trying to brag about the hole in my chest...”

Eugene tried to banish the subject of “holes” circling in his mind, but it wasn’t easy. Thinking about it, holes in the chest were wounds with all sorts of connections to him. One had caused his death in his past life, and Senya, sealed within the World Tree, had a hole in her chest too...

“... I told you to sit down instead of standing there, didn’t I? I’m not in good shape either. It’s hard to keep looking up at you.”

“Yes.”

Without refusing again, Doynes sat in the chair near the bed. With the distance between them narrowed, Eugene could sense the “death” hanging about him more clearly.

“How long have you got?”

“I will not survive the night.”

Doynes answered calmly.

“There’s still a chance you could recover if we called a high-ranking priest from the Holy Empire. The saint, for instance.”

“I know my own body well. Even the saint’s blessing would not be able to restore it.”

Doynes’s expression remained unchanged as he continued.

“... This incident... will stand as an example of how incompetent Lionheart—no, the Black Lions—were. We were arrogant. Intoxicated by the honor of being the Great Hero’s descendants, we failed to build any substance beneath it.”

“A late realization.”

“The world was too peaceful.”

“It’s ridiculous that Vermouth’s descendants let themselves get drunk on peace. If my body were sound and I had my old strength, I’d have made you bastards strutting around as Black Lions get down in push-up position and beaten you with a club.”

“I am sorry.”

Doynes bowed his head again.

“... I will take that fault with me. Ridicule will only fuel the younger generation’s discontent. Please understand that and look after us.”

“You’re not asking me to join the Black Lions, are you?”

“The Black Lions are far too small to contain you, Lord Hamel. But you have ties to us. Please watch over the changes we make, even from a step away.”

“Changes, huh.”

Eugene smacked his lips and tilted his head.

“Don’t be vague. What exactly are you going to change, and how?”

“We will open the gates of Black Lion Castle.”

“The gates?”

“As you know, Lord Hamel, one cannot become a Black Lion simply by wishing to. The restrictions are relatively loose for the main family, but a member of a collateral branch must possess enough skill that we cannot help but take notice of them first.”

“Right.”

“... From now on, if any collateral-branch children who have completed the Bloodline Succession Ceremony wish to become Black Lions, we will immediately invite them to the castle for training...”

“That Bloodline Succession Ceremony is the problem to begin with.”

Eugene’s face abruptly twisted into a scowl.

“The change you’re talking about amounts to increasing the number of Black Lions in the next generation. Well, that’s good in terms of bolstering your forces. You’ll lose some of your exclusivity, but you’ll have more people, and even idiots become useful if you train them from childhood.”

But as long as the tradition of the Bloodline Succession Ceremony remained, the change would be negligible.

“I hear several collateral families disappeared at the same time after the incident. That means this was a rebellion by collateral branches dissatisfied with the main family. And why were they dissatisfied? Because of that idiotic Bloodline Succession Ceremony.”

“... But... the Bloodline Succession Ceremony is the founder’s...”

“That bastard Vermouth went senile.”

Unable to contain his anger, Eugene instinctively tried to spring to his feet. Of course, the moment he tensed his body, terrible pain spread through him, and he had to suppress a scream.

... It wasn’t entirely incomprehensible. Vermouth had taken more than ten wives and fathered dozens of children. The most outstanding of those children had become the next family head.

And afterward? All those siblings who hadn’t become family head remained. Purging them outright would have settled matters neatly, but it would have been ridiculous for a hero’s children to tear into and kill their own siblings. In the end, the first generation muddled through, and those numerous siblings had children of their own.

That was where the trouble began. Vermouth was dead, and only “the Great Hero’s Lionheart family” remained. The families that had not become the main family wanted to inherit that name and gain its glory.

“... The Bloodline Succession Ceremony was necessary.”

Doynes answered with a long sigh.

“It makes the main family special and prevents the collateral branches from challenging it. Without the Bloodline Succession Ceremony, internal strife would have wiped out the main family long ago.”

“I know.”

Eugene’s scowl did not ease.

“... That bastard Vermouth must have had his own reasons for creating it.”

Those reasons.

A train of thought Eugene did not want to entertain arose in his mind. Alongside the main family’s White Flame Formula, the coercive tradition of the Bloodline Succession Ceremony had made the main family special. Over three hundred years, it had accumulated overwhelming power that the collateral branches could not challenge, while those branches steadily grew in number. If there had been no Bloodline Succession Ceremony, and the White Flame Formula had been passed down to every Lionheart...

Would Lionheart really look as it did now? If everyone received the same things, yet only one family was singled out for special treatment as the “main family,” would the other families have acknowledged it? Perhaps, as Doynes said, internal strife would have scattered “Lionheart” long ago.

And now? The main family stood unrivaled. Except for the Moonlight Sword, the legacies were in its Treasury. The White Flame Formula was passed down there in its complete form, and the main family’s growth, aided even by a spirit vein, was beyond the collateral branches’ ability to oppose.

All of that had allowed the main family to endure for three hundred years and control the multiplying collateral branches.

For what?

‘... The family’s glory?’

Vermouth had been involved in Hamel’s reincarnation.

His meeting with Senya had made him certain of that. The keepsake of Hamel’s that Senya had carried all her life—the necklace—had contained Hamel’s sealed soul. Vermouth had taken that necklace from her.

‘... If Vermouth... wanted me reincarnated into Lionheart...’

Eugene did not know how this reincarnation had been accomplished.

But thinking about it simply, his reincarnated body was exceptional compared to his past body—no, exceptional even among the Lionhearts. To produce a body this outstanding, increasing the number of descendants would be a convenient approach.

‘... It’s only speculation... but what if it’s true?’

Vermouth had increased his descendants to give Hamel the best possible body.

He had made the main family special to preserve Lionheart’s strength.

What if Hamel reincarnated into a collateral branch? That would pose no problem at all. As long as he had an exceptional body as his foundation, his past-life “memories” would allow him to grow strong enough to crush the main family. Things had somehow worked out, and he had been adopted into the main family and even taught the White Flame Formula... But even without that, Hamel could easily have trampled the main family and seized the strength it had preserved.

“... Abolish the Bloodline Succession Ceremony.”

Eugene murmured with a sigh.

“There’s no need for it anymore. This incident is another reason. Simply abolishing it will eliminate most of the collateral branches’ grievances.”

“... But...”

“You’re going to stay stubborn even with a hole in your chest? Like you said, the world was so peaceful that Lionheart turned into a bunch of incompetent fucking idiots. But it isn’t peaceful anymore. We don’t know when Helmuth might start a war, and the collateral branches that resent the main family have disappeared.”

“...”

“It’s a good time to change.”

Eugene glared at Doynes.

“If you’re going to die before the day is out, leave your final wishes before you go. The Immortal White Lion. Your death may not be honorable, but your name still holds sway over the elders. If you call for the abolition of the Bloodline Succession Ceremony in your final wishes, they won’t oppose it too fiercely. None of them wants to be the first to say it, but they all know this incident stemmed from the family’s rotten traditions.”

Doynes could not answer immediately. When he closed his eyes in thought, Eugene chuckled and continued.

“Really, who am I to force you to do this? If you don’t want to leave those final wishes, don’t. After you die, I’ll overhaul things myself. Of course, my methods will be incomparably rougher than the Immortal White Lion’s last wishes, but what can you do?”

“... Haha...”

Doynes let out a hearty laugh at that blatant threat.

“The advice comes from none other than a hero of three hundred years ago... Yes, I understand. I will... leave my final wishes.”

The tradition had endured for three hundred years. Having lived for a hundred and twenty, Doynes was a living witness to Lionheart’s history and, as someone born into the main family, a beneficiary of the Bloodline Succession Ceremony. Rejecting it was tantamount to rejecting the foundations of Lionheart, in which he had taken pride all his life.

But it had to be done. Doynes acknowledged how dishonorable this incident was, and accepted that the grandson who had pierced his chest had not shared his pride...

“... My grandson... Did Dominic die regretting what he had done?”

“He probably didn’t even have time to regret it.”

“That is a pity.”

Doynes chuckled and continued.

“I had hoped he would die regretting his wrong choices and actions. If he died without even having time for that, doesn’t it mean his death was not particularly painful?”

“It was a horrible death. ... The deaths of those who covet what is beyond them and are devoured by demonic power always are.”

“I owe you a great debt, Lord Hamel.”

Doynes rose again and bowed deeply.

“... And I have committed many sins against you. Had you not stopped them there, all the main family’s descendants would have been offered as sacrifices... and Eward would have completed the remnant of a Demon King. For the descendants of Lionheart, who slew Demon Kings, to bring a new Demon King into being... Such a thing must never happen.”

“Hmm... It wasn’t quite enough to bring a new Demon King into being... It was only a remnant, after all. It wasn’t much. Just a pathetic weakling.”

Eugene continued with a solemn expression, but his neck began to ache from holding it too stiffly. ... Strangely enough, the cloak lying on the sofa seemed to be wriggling. Eugene pictured Mer inside it, covering her mouth to stifle her laughter.

“... Ahem... Anyway, how did you realize I was Hamel?”

Eugene asked partly to change the subject.

“... I had a dream.”

“A dream?”

It was an unexpected answer.

“After Dominic ambushed me and I collapsed... it seems my consciousness was still somewhat connected to the Demonic Spear. I had wielded it for decades, and it is an ominous, mysterious weapon by nature. In that dream, I saw ‘how’ you drove Dominic to his death.”

Doynes paused and glanced at his hand. His one remaining hand was trembling merely from imagining the scene from the dream.

“... That strength. Those techniques. They could never have belonged to a twenty-year-old young man. And... the anger you displayed in the founder’s tomb, Lord Eugene, felt more like a friend’s sense of betrayal than anger toward a revered ancestor.”

“... I see.”

When he had seen that Vermouth’s coffin was empty, Eugene had failed to properly control his emotions. His sense of betrayal toward Vermouth had seized his reason by the collar and shaken it.

“... The Demonic Spear and the Crushing Hammer...”

“Mer.”

Without waiting for Doynes to finish, Eugene called Mer. She poked her head out from between the folds of the cloak.

“Yes, Lord Eugene, who was injured so badly fighting a pathetic weakling that he cannot even move.”

“... Let’s get our facts straight. This isn’t an injury. It’s muscle pain.”

“Yes, Lord Eugene, who is suffering muscle pain so severe from fighting a pathetic weakling that he cannot even move.”

“You’re dead when I’m fully healed. You know that, right?”

“What did you call me for, Lord Eugene, who is all talk?”

“... Take... the Demonic Spear and the Crushing Hammer out of the cloak.”

Eugene forced the words out, suppressing his seething irritation. Mer stuck out her tongue and slipped back inside the cloak.

“Did you laugh?”

“No.”

“I think you laughed.”

“No.”

“You laughed on the inside, didn’t you?”

“No.”

After a brief interrogation of an old man who would die that day, Mer emerged from the cloak, struggling to drag out the Demonic Spear and the Crushing Hammer, both far larger than she was.

“I’m keeping those. No objections, right?”

Eugene indicated the Demonic Spear and the Crushing Hammer with his chin.

They were no longer Demon Kings’ weapons. Their shapes had not changed, but the demonic energy that had formed their foundation had vanished completely.

In its place, some of the lightning flame flowing through Eugene’s body had entered the Demonic Spear and the Crushing Hammer. Eugene sensed a possibility in that. His condition prevented him from testing it immediately, but the lightning flame had taken the place of the spirit of darkness that had vanished along with the demonic energy. He might not be able to reproduce their former power, but perhaps he could still use the Demonic Spear and the Crushing Hammer as weapons.

“... Who but you could become the master of those weapons, Lord Hamel?”

Doynes decided not to argue with Eugene anymore. Their conversation had been brief, but this Great Hero from three hundred years ago was every bit as fiery as the fairy tales and histories described.

“You should head back now.”

The death hanging about Doynes had steadily deepened throughout their conversation.

“... Dominic may have been your only descendant... but you should still say goodbye to the elders who have been with you all these years.”

“And convey my final wishes.”

Doynes chuckled as he stood.

“... Thank you for your consideration, Lord Hamel. ... As a knight, it is a great honor to have met you like this. If I had enough time, I would have asked you to tell me of your past exploits.”

“No thanks. That would be embarrassing.”

Eugene shook his head with a look of distaste.

“... Who will be the next head of the Council of Elders?”

“I am considering Carmen, but she will not agree to it.”

“Then her younger brother will become the head.”

“Yes.”

“Can I ask a favor?”

“Please do.”

“Leave the main family alone.”

Doynes, who had been stepping away, raised his head to look at Eugene.

“I mean, don’t torment the family head over this. His own heart will be tormenting him more than anyone else could.”

“... Hoho.”

Doynes smiled faintly at those words.

“I am glad you care for the main family, Lord Hamel.”

“That still doesn’t mean I’m becoming family head.”

“But since you care for those twins and the main family, it will enjoy unprecedented glory even if you never become its head yourself.”

The wish to witness that himself was the lingering attachment in Doynes’s heart. But prolonging his life was impossible. Someone had to take responsibility for this incident, and in doing so, kindle the spark of reform within the family.

‘... It is a dishonorable death, but...’

Doynes turned with a bitter smile.

‘It is a death for the family.’

He had lived a hundred and twenty years, known as the Immortal White Lion.

Not once had he imagined he would meet a death like this.

Yet Doynes felt no resentment at dying this way. It had all been his own failing. His faith in his grandson, and his arrogance in imagining that everything he did was for the family, had prepared this grave for him.

It was an ugly, dishonorable death, but he had learned that a legend from three hundred years ago now dwelled within Lionheart.

Doynes quietly closed the bedroom door. Genos was waiting outside.

Genos approached to support him, but Doynes shook his head in refusal.

“Let us go.”

The round table where the Council of Elders held its meetings.

To leave his final wishes, Doynes walked toward the round-table tower on his own two feet.