Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage Chapter 639: BattleBane Master

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Elsewhere...

Lady Rosa Mercier together with Dalton Asheton reached a modest villa situated near the BattleBane Estate.

In stark contrast to the estate, the villa looked restrained and nearly devoid of vitality. Despite its reasonable size, not a single servant lingered on the grounds—a glaring oddity for the rank of elites allowed to rent such lodging in BloodIron.

Lady Rosa and Dalton ignored the dreary atmosphere while navigating the hallways with familiar ease.

Soon enough, they reached the main study. Dalton advanced and rapped on the door deliberately, showing proper deference.

"Dalton, Rosa... you have arrived? Come in." A soft voice emerged from inside.

Dalton swiftly swung the door open, and they both stepped inside without delay.

Right as they passed the threshold, Dalton and Rosa's bodies trembled against their will. It felt like crossing an unseen barrier into a different world... one drowned in choking darkness.

All hints of thrill, happiness, and comfort inside them vanished in a flash, wiped clean as if they never existed.

Left behind surged a heavy wave of discomfort, sorrow, and subtle anguish.

Thankfully, the feeling ebbed after just a handful of breaths. Still, its short duration carved a lasting mark on their thoughts, making them both exhale softly inside while looking at the silhouette before them with subtle compassion.

A figure in complete plate armor loomed ahead of them. The armor looked battered and aged, covered in endless blemishes and odd scratches.

At a casual look, these could pass for battle wounds—and they'd be partly right. But the reality proved much more disturbing.

A nearer look revealed the scratches came not from outside blows or foe weapons, but from the man wearing it.

Dalton and Lady Rosa eyed the armor with mixed feelings. They understood perfectly it wasn't for shielding him from outer dangers... but to shield everyone else from the danger he harbored inside.

"Master," Dalton and Lady Rosa said together.

This was indeed the head and lord of the BattleBane Guild, plus the hidden force controlling the Jadewell Merchant Company.

Unlike Dalton, whose curse sparked only now and then—especially with low mana or bodily control slipping—the BattleBane Guild's master suffered a much worse plight.

A curse so dire it locked him in this custom-made armor forever, suffering endless agony from his past ’sins’... trapped in a miserable life soaked in grief and torment.

Some scorned him for hiding in this dim house. But Dalton, Rosa, and every informed member of their group offered only deepest admiration.

People like him would've ended it all ages ago, unable to bear the nonstop suffering—the mild steady ache plus the massive crushing pains that assailed him.

But he stood firm, gripping his survival drive tightly to push past the curse... solely to one day unleash revenge on those who doomed him—and those close to him—to this doom.

Dalton and Lady Rosa settled into chairs facing the couch where the armored figure rested, with the table creating a silent divide between them.

"Dalton, how are you? I sensed you lose control earlier, though you regained it soon after," a low, gravelly voice rumbled from within the armor.

The voice belonged to someone unused to talking, like every syllable battled through a dusty, ignored passage.

"Yes, thank you for your concern, Master. I did indeed lose control today, but my rampage was brought to a halt," Dalton answered, bowing respectfully.

Dalton and Lady Rosa shared a quick look before focusing again on their superior.

"We encountered a rather peculiar group of individuals today..."

They detailed the happenings as straightforwardly and impartially as they could, deliberately removing any personal slant or baseless guesses.

"Someone who recognised our curse immediately... yet did not carry the aura of divinity..." the BattleBane Master murmured.

’Then again, one of the very reasons we came to the Wildlands in the first place was because it is one of the few regions where the clergy and the temple rarely tread,’ he pondered silently.

"Do you know—or at least have an idea of who he might be?" he inquired.

"We possess no solid evidence," Lady Rosa responded. "The Fortuna Company showed up in BloodIron roughly three months back, staying mostly out of sight. Were it not for the potion they plan to unveil, they wouldn't have drawn our notice in the slightest.

"Nevertheless, his actions, the way he speaks during pivotal times, his aura, and his overwhelming strength all point to a powerful origin. Above all, he exudes a royal demeanor, yet subtly reveals a trace of contempt—or maybe indifference—toward the divine.

"Considering all this, I suspect he's an heir from... 'that' place."

"I understand... That explains it," the BattleBane Master agreed with a nod. "Only they could raise someone like him, untouched by any divine sway—whether from Deity or Spirit."

After a short pause, he inquired,

"What do you think of his proposal?"

"It's a gamble worth taking. If there's any chance to break free from this curse... we must grasp it," Dalton declared resolutely.

His eyes blazed with unyielding resolve and determination—not for himself, but for the countless souls in their group tormented by the same plight. Especially... for the leader before them.

"I get it... cough—"

"Master!" Rosa and Dalton leaped up in panic.

The BattleBane Master lifted a hand, waving off their worry even as fierce coughs shook his frame.

The spasms were so intense that his combat energy erupted wildly inside him, scarcely held back by the armor enveloping his form—a strain that only worsened his state.

Helpless, Rosa and Dalton watched their master spew blood over and over. Such volumes would have felled any normal person after just one or two fits from sheer blood loss.

But for him... this nightmare had dragged on for years.

At last, the coughing eased.

With familiar ease, he wiped the blood from his armor's mouth slit before cleaning his hand in a nearby basin—already soaked in dark red, as if it had forever yielded to blood's hue.

Spotting the profound worry on Dalton and Rosa's faces, he shook his head gently.

"Don't wear such dour expressions. This isn't my first bout, nor my last... and yet here I stand," he stated.

His eyes shifted to the moon glowing brightly overhead in the dark sky.

Resolve, scorn, contempt, and ridicule—a storm of feelings—flashed across his gaze in that instant.

He returned to Dalton and Rosa, striding over to reclaim his chair.

"I question a man devoid of divinity who vows to dispel a divine curse... and asks for a divine statue in payment.

"Still, you're right. No matter how improbable, if there's the tiniest hope for relief—or a cure—we're duty-bound to chase it. If not for us, then for those who rely on us," he declared.

The BattleBane Master halted for a breath, steadying his turbulent combat energy.

"Dalton, hunt down divine statues in the nearby monster lairs," he commanded.

"As you wish, Master," Dalton answered, bowing deeply.

The BattleBane Master then fixed his eyes on Rosa.

"Rosa, after Dalton secures the statue, you manage the exchange. You excel at bargaining. Pull back at the first whiff of trouble."

"Yes, Master," Rosa affirmed with her own bow.

The BattleBane Master regarded them both, his stare laden with gravity.

"I know this feels like our best shot at a cure—or treatment—in decades. But don't let hope blind you. Until they prove themselves, our ties stay purely business.

"Even if they face destruction, don't step in just to save the cure.

"Clear?"

"Yes, Master," they chorused together.

"Go now, before my curse flares worse," the BattleBane Master sent them away.

Rosa and Dalton bowed again before departing the chamber and shortly the villa.

Soon enough, the BattleBane stirred into action—merging with the hidden powers lurking in the shadows under the Wildlands' serene surface... a metropolis forged from blood and iron.

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