Chapter 78: Martin's Intuition
The funeral of Odri V and the coronation of the new monarch were held on the same day.
The old King was returned to the earth; the new King ascended the throne.
This news acted as an unstoppable gale, sweeping across every corner of the continent in record time. The intelligence agencies of every neighboring power received the formal notification. Yet, immediately following it was a second, even more scandalous declaration:
The Odri Empire officially recognized the sovereignty of a new nation: The Evernight Empire.
A nation composed entirely of the dead.
Furthermore, the Odri Empire had officially excised the entire Eastern Border from its maps, designating it as the sovereign territory of the Evernight Empire.
This decision sent a seismic shock through the continent. The Cardinal of the Holy Empire of Gusteko (Theocracy) issued a scathing condemnation immediately. The official document claimed that the Odri Empire was "consorting with pure evil," "betraying the Covenant of the Living," and was a "traitor to all of humanity."
Other nations expressed varying degrees of intense unease. Surrendering such vast swaths of land to the undead was unprecedented in history. It was viewed as an act of cowardice—a supreme betrayal.
However, some nations remained silent, watching from the wings. They saw the cold logic behind the move. The Eastern Border had been transformed into a massive buffer zone.
The Odri Empire then declared its Absolute Neutrality.
This stance meant the Empire would not participate in any crusade against the undead, but nor would it provide the Evernight Empire with any assistance. It was the strategy of Altlais—a gambit that placed the Empire in an unassailable position.
If the human alliance failed and the Evernight Empire expanded westward, Odri would be the only human nation with established diplomatic ties to the dead. That status alone would be a monumental advantage. If the human alliance succeeded and the undead were wiped out, Odri would merely carry a stain on its reputation—a stain that time and hard power would eventually wash away.
The first to react were the nobles of the Eastern Border.
Their exodus was shockingly swift. The moment the Imperial decree reached them, a frantic migration began. They packed their ancestral wealth, their loyal servants, and every scrap of gold that would fit into a carriage, fleeing their lands without a backward glance. Castles, fields, and mines—objects representing centuries of heritage—were abandoned. They refused to live under the rule of skeletons.
The commoners, however, had no choice. They had lived on that land for generations; the soil was their lifeblood. They had nowhere to go and no means to get there. They remained, waiting for an unknown fate.
Rumors of the Evernight Empire spread like a plague among them. Some said the undead used the living as livestock. Others said they would be enslaved in eternal, sleepless labor. Yet, smaller whispers suggested that Evernight possessed its own order and was not a collective of mindless chaos.
Panic and confusion reigned. With nothing left but prayer, the people could only hope that their new masters would not bring total annihilation.
In his temporary quarters in the Capital, Reinhard heard the news.
The death of King Odri V. The coronation of Princess Alice. The recognition of Evernight.
Each headline pushed the world further beyond his understanding. He felt he had to act. He decided to return to Jade Territory immediately—he had promised Count Barton he would return, and he felt a duty to tend to his mother's garden.
There was another reason for his departure: his magic instructor, Martin.
Ever since Reinhard became Martin's nominal student, the man had maintained a bizarre, chilly distance. Martin refused any face-to-face instruction. He never taught Reinhard so much as a basic cantrip in person. Instead, he regularly had a servant deliver his old magic journals and research notes.
Reinhard had spent his weeks self-studying from those messy, scribbled pages. He was deeply perplexed. He couldn't understand why this esteemed Mage seemed to find him so repulsive.
Before leaving, Reinhard felt it was only proper to bid his mentor farewell.
Inside the Mage's Spire, Martin was in the throes of a long-term anxiety attack. When his servant announced that Reinhard had come to say goodbye, Martin's eyes lit up with a manic intensity.
He sprinted to the door to greet Reinhard personally.
"Reinhard! My dear student! You're leaving?"
A look of irrepressible joy spread across his face. Reinhard saw it clearly and was baffled. It wasn't the proud joy of a teacher blessing a student's journey; it was the look of a prisoner receiving a pardon.
"Yes, Master. Circumstances have changed. I intend to return home."
"Splendid! Marvelous! A young man should see the world!" Martin's voice rose an octave. He even stepped forward and gave Reinhard an uncharacteristically enthusiastic pat on the shoulder. "Are you packed? If not, I'll help you! Right now! This instant!"
Reinhard stood frozen. He truly believed his mentor was celebrating the start of his grand journey.
In reality, Martin was throwing a mental parade. When he had first received the Emperor's order to take Reinhard as a student, he had been impressed. Reinhard was young, disciplined, and already a Tier 2 Mage. He thought he had found a once-in-a-century prodigy.
But out of a sense of responsibility, Martin had looked into the boy's background. And he discovered a pattern that defied all logic.
Ever since the fall of Iron Fortress, a string of disasters had followed the boy. Martin realized a terrifying rule: anyone or any faction that had deep contact with Reinhard Andreas Von suffered a catastrophic fate shortly after.
The latest example was Odri V. The Emperor had personally met with Reinhard only days before his freakish, sudden death.
That was the final straw for Martin's sanity.
He wasn't a Diviner, but his instincts shouted that Reinhard was a Walking harbinger of Misfortune. Martin had spent every waking moment since then avoiding the boy. He feared the jinx would rub off on him like a contagion. He feared his very life was in danger just by being in the same zip code.
He had sent the notebooks specifically so Reinhard would stay in his room and never knock on Martin's door. He had hoped the boy would eventually just... leave.
And now, the day had finally come.
Martin felt a tiny sliver of guilt as he watched the polite boy. He knew his treatment of a talented youth was undignified and unfair. He even wondered, for a split second, if he was being too sensitive.
Holding onto that small shred of guilt, he worked frantically to stuff Reinhard's gear into his bags. He grabbed Reinhard's apprentice staff and grimoire. At least I can send him off properly, he thought. The duty of a teacher, at the very least.
Because he was moving so fast, Martin grew thirsty. He paused, turning to the table to take a drink of water.
The cup reached his lips. The water entered his mouth.
Reinhard's voice came from behind him. "Master, may I take these journals with me? They have been an incredible help."
Martin's attention shifted to the question. He instinctively started to turn his head to say, "Of course, they were meant for you anyway."
In that exact micro-second—
SPUTTER—!
A mouthful of water was sucked perfectly into his windpipe.
"COUGH! HACK! GAH-COUGH-COUGH!"
Martin's face turned the color of a bruised beet. He bent over in agony, coughing so hard tears and snot erupted simultaneously. He felt as though he were going to hack his lungs onto the carpet.
In that instant, every ounce of guilt in his soul evaporated into the wind. He let out a silent, mental scream of pure terror.
IT'S HIM! IT REALLY IS HIM! THE JINX IS REAL! HE TRIED TO KILL ME WITH A CUP OF WATER!
"Cough... Take them! TAKE THEM ALL!" Martin wheezed.
He scrambled to his feet, dashed into his study, and began dumping every magic journal he owned out of his Spatial Pouch in a disorganized heap. He stuffed them into Reinhard's pack with a violence bordering on assault. Then, he shoved the heavy bag into Reinhard's startled arms.
"There! Done! You're all set!"
Reinhard clutched the bag, looking at his panting, red-faced mentor in total confusion. "Master, you..."
"Don't say another word!"
"Remember! Once you leave this tower, never mention my name! Rely on your own strength! Don't bring shame to... to me! Just go!"
Martin shouted while physically pushing Reinhard toward the exit. He shoved the boy out of the room, then out of the Spire's main doors.
"Go! Forge your future! Don't ever come back to visit!"
SLAM!
The heavy doors of the Mage's Spire thudded shut in Reinhard's face. He could hear the sound of several heavy bolts sliding into place and the scrape of furniture being pushed against the door from the inside.
Reinhard stood alone on the steps, clutching his bag.
"...Master Martin truly is a passionate man," Reinhard murmured to himself.
He genuinely believed his teacher was so overcome with emotion regarding his departure that he couldn't bear to look at him any longer.
Inside the tower, Martin was slumped against the door on the floor, gasping for air. He felt a peace he hadn't known in weeks.
The Calamity was finally gone.
Martin looked at his empty bookshelves, feeling nothing but the profound relief of a man who had narrowly escaped an executioner's blade.
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