Thiendavis – For The Perfect Salvation

Chapter 34: Collar and Muzzle

For the glory of Laurel.

The proud boy had liked these words.

Great and noble Laurel, the sole master of Thiendavis.

Laurel, bearing infinite rights and responsibilities as the world's ruler, destroyed the wicked, protected the weak, and established justice to fulfill those duties.

Having engraved Laurel's brilliance deep into his bones, the boy had no complaints about bearing this sacred duty.

Moreover, he liked the titles soon to be bestowed upon him.

Whether it was 'The One Who Brought Down the Dragon,' 'The One Who Stopped the Catastrophe,' or 'The Guardian of the Boundary'.

This was the story of Zion when he was still seventeen.

Though his height and build were now larger than most adults, his face still bore traces of youth.

However, having been passed the title of earl just the day before, Zion showed no intention of acknowledging his minority status.

Seeing how calmly he accepted his farewell with his family before heading to the boundary.

Before meeting with the Children of Tardes, the Grand Duke of Laurel called his son.

"Zion."

"Yes, Father."

"Give me something to remember you by. I'll return it to you once you complete your first battle."

Zion was internally flustered by his father's request.

It was awkward hearing such sentimental words from his straightforward father.

Realizing his departure from home made Zion search for something appropriate.

After a brief contemplation, he decided to remove a cufflink from his right sleeve.

Crafted with platinum and sapphire, it was something he had tailored when he received his title.

Zion handed it to his father without hesitation, and the grand duke accepted his son's item with a bittersweet smile.

Thus, Zion, who had seemed intact until then, felt a bit strange.

But he did not show it.

It was due to his half-brother's sullen presence, gloomy as if a pillar of the world had fallen.

Standing next to the grand duke was Zion's half-brother, Hardin Laurel.

Zion and Hardin had different mothers but resembled each other surprisingly.

Moreover, they were closer than typical brothers.

Hardin Laurel, the heir and elder brother, was a delicate boy who dearly cherished his people, while Zion Laurel, the illegitimate younger brother, was a shameless brat who audaciously twisted his elder brother around.

Though the grand duchess's faction often sighed whenever the half-brothers played together, they, in their way, were affectionate siblings.

Zion glanced at his brother's somber expression and, as their father stepped aside to talk with someone else, kicked Hardin abruptly.

"Are you going to a funeral?"

"Hey...!"

"Show some respect. I'm a count now."

Hardin's face twisted at his younger brother's casual tone.

Usually, he would have offered a wry smile at such cheekiness, but he couldn't force a smile today.

He was desperately swallowing words lingering in his mouth.

'I don't want you to go to the boundary.'

'I'm scared you might change like Uncle.'

'I don't want to part with you.'

Recalling his duty as the grand duke's heir, Hardin forcefully suppressed his weak heart.

Watching his foolish brother, Zion clicked his tongue briefly, then tossed the remaining cufflink from his left side.

"Keep this too."

"What?"

Hardin, startled by Zion's unexpected gesture, looked at him in surprise. Zion spoke curtly.

"Return it when I retire."

After leaving those words, Zion turned sharply away, and Hardin finally managed a weak smile.

To Hardin, Zion was an unbeatable brother, friend, and object of admiration.

Zion was strong.

Resolute, bold, and exuded a prideful confidence.

Hardin believed no one was more like Laurel than Zion, and he loved him like the sun instead of envying him.

Zion, aware of his brilliance, accepted the fate of heading to the boundary.

He acknowledged it as his duty,

Thinking arrogantly that only he could bear it,

For the glory of Laurel, his origin, and pride.

---

However, two years later.

Zion had lost all his confidence and pride, vividly recalling the moment he said goodbye to his brother as if it had happened just the previous day.

It was right after finishing the sixteenth confrontation with Amanecer.

Standing in the middle of the boundary, Zion realized amidst the ensuing chaos that something had gone terribly wrong.

It seemed just days ago that he greeted his father and brother and left the Grand Duke's Castle of Laurel.

The feeling was as if he had woken up after a very long dream.

Zion remembered everything that happened over the past two years.

However, it felt unfamiliar, like someone else's experience.

While blankly recalling, a cold sensation brushed Zion's side.

Reaching out instinctively, Zion was startled by the slippery sensation.

Blood, overflowing in abundance, made his palm sticky.

What is this? How did I get so injured? When...?

The moment he realized his body was bloodied, the pain he had been postponing overwhelmed him in an instant.

"Ah, aaah...!"

His whole body ached as if tearing apart.

The dormant senses awoke and mercilessly enveloped him.

Unable to bear it, Zion yelled like a beast.

But even that was just a raspy groan, not quite a scream.

He felt like he was going to die. Or perhaps, he should have already been dead.

The injuries he shrugged off over the past two years flashed through his mind.

He stood against Amanecer with his whole body, desperately recovering while it slumbered, then returned to the battlefield.

He was battered and stitched repeatedly like a dog's plaything.

Amidst pounding his head on the ground and wailing, Zion grew curious.

How am I still alive?

Despite being so damaged and torn apart, how am I still...?

When the pain mixed with shock, he suddenly couldn't breathe.

He gasped for breath, unable to draw in air, and darkness began to flicker before his eyes.

"Calm down and breathe."

At that moment, someone lifted Zion, forcibly opening his mouth. They supported his jaw so he could breathe.

Barely regaining his breath, Zion's darkened vision returned.

He finally calmed himself and looked at the person who had raised him.

The man, a tall figure, wore a black hood.

"Who are you...?"

Zion's question was interrupted as the man removed the hood.

And Zion felt pain as if he would collapse again.

---

The day Zion met the astrologer, he was freed from the curse.

Realizing the curse had broken, the grand duke immediately visited him the next day.

"You came?"

In the General Commander's Office of Tardes Hall, Zion spoke toward his father.

At that time, Zion sat with his legs crossed, like a lion occupying a throne.

And thus, the grand duke groaned, seemingly collapsing.

"What happened, why...?"

"Are you asking why I'm sane now or something?"

The son interrupted his father's inquiry.

Then, he added with a cold smile.

"Explain yourself before I lose the will to listen."

Zion's eyes were quietly flickering as he asked.

Feeling Zion's cold fury, the grand duke's knees trembled.

Zion was a difficult child to raise even when young.

A rebellious son, stubborn and willful, overly talented.

A pure-blooded Laurel who inherited the ruler's temperament.

Now, with the means to oppose a dragon and a murderous intent, the grand duke became unbearably afraid.

"...I never wanted to make you like this."

Thus, he knelt, discarding both the grand duke's authority and a father's dignity.

"But it was the family's fate and my unavoidable duty. To prevent disaster, we had to endure sacrifice. That's the Laurel's..."

"Is that true?"

Zion interrupted his father's words with a bright voice.

As if it was amusing, he asked again.

"Is it truly unavoidable? I doubt it."

Contrary to the grandiose pretense of stopping a disaster, what the Counts of Laurel, including Zion, had been doing was nothing but an awful, reckless battle relying solely on brute force, without any strategy or tactics.

Laurel was not some insignificant family barely surviving by grinding a grown son, and they could have found countless better methods if they had the will.

But disguising it with words of fate and duty, Zion coldly ridiculed his utterly irresponsible and insincere father.

"It's not that there aren't ways; it's because you want to monopolize this role."

The only guardian of the continent.

The noble Laurel facing the disaster.

How grand an illusion it was and yet how cheap a deception it was.

And what was needed to handle the world this way was merely one son.

Even being reluctant to use the legitimate child, he had no qualms about creating one outside.

As a child, Zion had wondered why his father, who cherished the grand duchess so much, made such a mistake, but was it also out of profound love?

Furious at the disgusting facade of his family, Zion's mood hit rock bottom.

And Zion didn't hide it.

He was already struggling not to demolish everything, having no intention to spare any mercy on the father who had thoroughly deceived and used him.

Moreover, ironically detestable it may be, Zion was also a noble.

He was likewise accustomed to making decisions fit for a ruler to maintain power.

Therefore, he understood this damned situation to some extent.

It is why he waited.

To hear whatever excuses his father had.

To take what could be taken and discard what should be discarded, restructuring this slaughterhouse-like boundary.

Of course, this would be after finishing the puppet act and completely wresting control from his father.

However, just as Zion was not a great son, his father was not a great father either.

The grand duke stumbled towards the window to catch his breath.

Seated still, Zion watched him, and the grand duke's expression grew more somber in response to his son's coldness and arrogance.

This place had a great view, fitting the General Commander's room.

Above, the cliffs formed a spectacular view, blocking the boundary, and below was an appropriate height.

The grand duke spoke, relieved by these facts.

"Forgive me, Zion. Please, I implore you to ease your heart with this."

With that final plea, he leaped in front of his son.

---

The previous grand duke of Laurel died instantly.

Fortunately, Zion did not fall under any unwarranted suspicion.

The discovery of a letter in the grand duke's study, filled with suitable excuses and devoid of any mention of the curse or boundary watch, served its purpose.

The grand duke’s visit was thus framed as a last wish to see his son once more.

The worst father who outdid even the worst, yet there was one point Zion was thankful for.

It left him with no room to suffer from guilt.

When the grand duke plunged, the deputy commander rushed to Zion's room.

Naturally, he inquired about the circumstances, and Zion, trying to respond in shock, received another shock.

He couldn't speak.

Attempting to explain the situation, he found he was unable to form words.

Writing it down wasn’t an option either. Even when he attempted to allude, any intention to convey this fact to others was blocked.

Thus, Zion realized.

A new curse had been laid upon him.

His thoughtful father had ensured that he could be despised unreservedly.

Zion found it incredibly heartening.

It had already been five years since he had been silenced with a muzzle, rendered incapable of doing anything.

Propping his chin on his shabby desk, Zion recalled Evie's words from last night.

"So, I'm guessing the curse the Count has now is one that prevents the secret from being revealed."

Even in retrospect, it was chilling.

To discern that, after having made Zion gnash his teeth alone, desiring desperately to disclose it but being unable to.

Therefore, Zion had to reconsider his evaluation of Evie once again.

To him, Evie's first impression was just that of a pretty fool, and once she'd revealed her true nature, a cunning opportunist.

However, now...

Feeling anxious as he glanced outside the window, Zion suddenly stood up.

In the distance, a girl was walking towards him, bathed in sunlight.

It was Evie Ariate, whom he had been waiting for since early dawn.