Chapter 220: Chapter 220

Mario was a rational man. He didn’t let emotions interfere with business. So when Keter asked him to give up his seat, he yielded without protest.

“There won’t be a second time.”

But he didn’t forget to leave a warning that such a whim would not be tolerated again. Mario was a seven-star Prime, a man whose time was worth gold. He was not someone who could afford to waste a trip on trivial whims.

Keter, unconcerned, sat back down and turned to Hans.

“If life were expressed in floors, you see...”

Keter gave no context, yet has listened quietly.

“...Some are born in the basement, others start already on the fifth floor. I was born in the basement, the very bottom. Maybe that’s why...” Keter pointed a finger at Hans. “When I see people like you, my fist itches before anything else.”

“People born on the fifth floor who convince themselves they climbed there on their own.” ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵※𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮※𝓷𝓮𝓽

“People born strong who, dissatisfied with a few things, insist they were born in the basement.”

“You speak as though you know everything about me.”

“People like you always have one thing in common. Do you know what it is? You never tell people your real name. But you knew mine and could call me by it. That must have been the case all your life. You were probably always the one waiting. Even if you went to find someone, they probably already knew of you. You’ve always had the status and power that made that possible.”

“So start from the beginning. Introduce yourself. Tell me who you are.”

Ivan could not understand Keter.

Is this truly why he refused to cooperate with Mario and insisted on speaking with him again? Just to lecture him?

“Not the fake one. Your real name.”

“You presume to call my words false.”

“Then I’ll call you Hans forever. Even if later you say otherwise, it won’t matter.”

“...Ivan. I abandoned my surname.”

“Good. Now, what comes next?”

Ivan felt no anger now, only curiosity. He wondered why Keter was doing this to him.

“Why did you request contact with our Syndicate?” Ivan asked.

“Better. See? You can do it. I came because I need your help.”

“You, who can move the Imperial Special Task Force, chose to come to us instead? I don’t understand.”

“I know the Special Task Force is more capable than you. But they wear the Samael Empire’s leash, right? That won’t do.”

“You mean this isn’t about you personally, but about your family. Is it about the party?”

Ivan had investigated Sefira while investigating Keter. He knew what they were up to. If Sefira needed help, it had to be related to the party.

“Princess Iris will be at the banquet.”

Ivan understood at once what kind of advice and aid Keter sought, and why he had come to the Syndicate instead of the Special Task Force.

“You need a way to resist Princess Iris’ Charm.”

Ivan fell silent. Of course, he knew of Princess Iris. The Syndicate, too, had heard many rumors about the overwhelming power of her Charm. However, this also meant there was no reliable data, so there was no guarantee of success.

“Impossible? Then I’ll have no choice but to turn to the Special Task Force, inconvenient as that may be,” Keter said.

“...I can’t promise with certainty. No one in this world possesses precise knowledge of her Charm.”

“Then tell me what means you do have. I’ll judge for myself.”

“First, why should the Syndicate help you? You’re only the bastard of Sefira.”

“You called me a regressor, didn’t you? Don’t you want to partner with one?”

“Are you admitting it, then?”

“If I say yes, does that make it true?”

Ivan steadied himself after a moment’s surprise. Keter was right. If a beggar claimed to be the king, who would believe him? It needed credibility and proof.

“If you really are a regressor, and if you can prove it... Then the Syndicate will spare no support for you and for Sefira,” Ivan said with sincerity.

But Keter merely wagged a finger.

“Ivan, if it were you, would you admit it? Would you say yes right now?”

“...If it were me, I would refuse. No—I’d never say it in the first place.”

“Exactly. Whether I’m a regressor or not doesn’t matter. If it did, the Syndicate wouldn’t be meeting me at all. The only reason you’re sitting in front of me is because I’m worth it.”

“And what worth does the bastard of the weakest noble family in the kingdom have?”

“Don’t make me spell it out. Who rebuilt Sefira from the ground up? Who brought the Special Task Force to heel? All because I am good.”

“You are more exceptional than most, true. But that’s only in the south. Do you really think there aren’t others in this kingdom stronger, with greater achievements?”

“Of course there are. But in the end, they’ll all be beneath me.”

Keter wasn’t speculating; he was confident.

Is this the confidence of one who’s clawed his way up from nothing? Or does he have something else to rely on?

Even Ivan, who was desperate for regressors, no longer believed his strength was from regression. Knowing the future was one thing, realizing it was another. Keter oozed raw, unshakable confidence, and Ivan could feel the boldness of one who believed, without doubt, that he would rise above all.

Ivan exhaled a long sigh, lacing his fingers together. A million thoughts were racing through his mind, but it was clear that he should cooperate with Keter, not because he might be a regressor but because he was a Liqueurian who had escaped, because he was under the Special Task Force’s protection, and because he had every chance of reaching the realm of seven-star Prime, where only the chosen ones could achieve. These three reasons alone were enough; the fact that he was a Sefira didn’t matter at all.

“There is only one method with any chance of countering Princess Iris’s Charm.”

The option that came to Ivan’s mind felt almost too ironic. Charm could not be resisted by will alone. It had already been proven that Iris could also charm Grandmasters and grand mages as well. The only viable counter was equal power—Charm against Charm.

To think Orphe’s Mask would be used this way.

Orphe’s Mask, an artifact that had the power of Charm. Ivan had prepared as bait to lure regressors. That very artifact was now to be given to Keter, the very man suspected of being one. The irony was so sharp that Ivan came up with a crazy theory.

He’s a regressor who already knew about Orphe’s Mask, and he needs it desperately. He saw through the trap, twisted it around, and maneuvered me into giving it to him without a shred of suspicion.

“Heh,” Ivan let out a bitter chuckle.

This is mad, even for me.

Ivan, who never bent his own stubborn will, found himself defeated at the very brink of truth.

Keter received Orphe’s Mask from Ivan. Though the transfer was a loan rather than ownership, Keter had no intention of keeping it permanently; he only needed it for the upcoming party. With that settled, all that remained was to part ways.

But Keter didn’t simply take the mask and leave. He had learned long ago that a potential threat should never be left at a distance.

“Why are you looking for regressors?”

Hans took a sip of apple tea before answering. He couldn’t taste it as he was a clone, but the act itself soothed his mind.

“Do you actually believe regressors exist?”

“Whether I believe it or not doesn’t matter. I just want to know why you’re searching for them.”

Only the Syndicate’s founder, Messiah, knew why they were looking for regressors. As for Ivan, his motive was simple: he wanted to cure his cursed body. He didn’t think it was something to hide.

“It’s to heal my body.”

“Oh? That’s interesting. For someone like you to remain uncured means even medicine and the miracles of priests failed. So what could a regressor possibly do for you?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that only a regressor can.”

“Leaving aside the details, have you tried every possible method?”

“I have. Crates, the greatest healer alive, and the Saintess of the Mothers Church, who are known for healing, both said it was impossible. That should answer your question.”

“What about Franken?”

“If you mean Franken, the chimeric mage, no. He disappeared into Liqueur.”

“Then why not seek out one of his students?”

“I’ve never heard of him having any students.”

Keter smirked. Ivan grew uneasy.

“Why are you laughing?” Ivan asked.

“Because he’s in front of you.”

“I’m Franken’s student,” Keter said, pointing at himself.

“I heard you’re a Liqueurian, but that alone doesn’t prove you were Franken’s student.”

“Forget that. Do you know Ryze?”

“That’s Eslow’s son. I’ve heard he fell into a vegetative state from Extreme Mana Overload Syndrome.”

“Guess you haven’t heard the rumor that he recovered.”

“That’s impossible. Extreme Mana Overload Syndrome hasn’t been cured since the days of high elves and ancient incantors. In the modern era, no such cure exists.”

“And yet, here I am: the one who performed the operation.”

Of course, Ivan didn’t believe it.

“That’s as ridiculous as you saying that you’re a regressor.”

“Why are you so doubtful? Go to Eslow’s palace and see for yourself. Oh, I guess that might be hard if you’re not close with him.

“... Ryze really overcame Extreme Mana Overload Syndrome?”

“I performed surgery on him using Master Franken’s Human Modification Technique.”

“Human Modification Technique!”

Hans shot to his feet, and Ivan’s real eyes widened in shock.

If treatment fails, then modify the body.

The only remaining hope, except for regressors, was Franken’s Human Modification Technique.

Hans calmed himself and sat back down.

“Ahem... is that true?” Ivan asked.

“I’m tired of saying it.”

It was only natural for Ivan to question it. Once Franken had vanished into Liqueur, not even the Syndicate could reach him. It wasn't because of their lack of power, but because Liqueur was beyond the reach of even divine beings like kings and queens.

Then, all of a sudden, Keter suddenly appeared, claiming to be Franken’s student. He said he had learned the Human Modification Technique in full, and proved he wasn’t just a novice by declaring he had cured Ryze’s Extreme Mana Overload Syndrome. Ivan couldn’t bring himself to fully believe it. He was going to verify the story.

If Keter really was Franken’s student, and he had truly cured Ryze’s Extreme Mana Overload Syndrome with Human Modification Technique... then perhaps he could save me, too.

It wasn’t certain, but it was the only hope left. Searching for regressors was endless waiting, and Ivan had only seven years of life remaining. If there was a chance, any chance, he wanted to take it. Still, he could not entrust his body recklessly. His very life was at stake.

“So... you mean to say you’ll treat me?” Iva asked.

“Not treat—modify. And don’t get the wrong idea.”

Keter leaned forward, face close. Through Hans’ eyes, he pointed at Ivan, rubbed his thumb against his index and middle finger, and asked, “Well, how much were you thinking?”