Inheritance(3)
“Richard?” A voice rang out from the crowd, a rather dashing young man dressed in mage’s attire; not many of his age were truly established mages. His gaze was sharp as an eagle, quickly landing on Richard as he shouted, “Stop!”
Richard instinctively sensed hostility from this youth, his gaze freezing over as he stopped in his tracks. He looked at the young mage, trying to gauge his power as he looked on to see what would happen next. Precision slowly unravelled this opponent’s powers, revealing that he was roughly around level 13. The youth’s mana was rather pure, leaning slightly towards elemental magic. Richard also sensed that the mage possessed a similar air of calmness and accuracy, traits only runemasters possessed.
The young mage blocked Richard’s path, sizing him up a few times before asking coldly, “Are you Richard Archeron?”
In no mood to answer, Richard quickly made up his mind and said nonchalantly, “I don’t want to answer, step aside.”
The young mage’s expression changed in an instant, his face distorting sinisterly, but he quickly managed to turn that into a look of calm arrogance. He laughed icily, “I’m the best student of the royal runemaster, Lunor. My name is Foster. I hear you proclaimed yourself a future saint? What a joke! A young kid who hasn’t had a single rune convention to his name calls himself a future saint runemaster? Do you even know what a saint runemaster is?”
Another youth chimed in, “The Archerons are only a bunch of worthless upstarts who can only boast!”
“Exactly! You lot are all brawn, no brain. What would you know about runecrafting? Wasn’t Gaton tricked into heading to a plane and trapped there forever?” one more shouted in mockery.
“Look, this guy has a dagger! I’ve never seen a mage that needs a blade before!”
Despite their best attempts, the incessant efforts of these youths did not get to Richard. “Step aside,” he said indifferently.
Foster’s complexion soured further, his gaze falling upon the long dagger on Richard’s back. He laughed sarcastically, “This is the first time I’ve seen a runemaster with a blade. Would a true mighty runemaster need something as crude as that to act cool? I heard the Archerons had no taste, but I would never have guessed that it was this bad. Bah, that blade is weak! I suggest you spend some money to get something better!”
As he said that, Foster stretched out his hand to poke Richard in the chest, as if he was training some acolyte. Richard let out an icy smirk, right hand twitching without control. If the mage’s fingers were to land on his clothes, he would chop them off in a flash. That would be a devastating blow to any runemaster.
Hand still half-raised, Foster suddenly felt a chilling sensation in his heart. His mind went numb, his muscles stiffening until he was paralysed. This was a sense of danger so strong that it felt like he could die!
His face blanched, and it was all he could do to stop his hand from trembling as he put it down without caring about his reputation. He shot Richard a bewildered look, unsure if the danger he just sensed had come from the Archeron youth.
Richard looked towards him and laughed, “Pretty good perception. Pity you have no guts, and your appraisal skills are poor—”
“Extinction!” a cry rang out from the side before Richard could even finish.
A violent gale suddenly buffeted the corner and a buff young man rushed towards Richard. His eyes were blazing as he spoke in a menacing tone, “Who are you?! Why do you have Sinclair’s Extinction? Where is she?”
Foster immediately stepped aside, his complexion changing. He looked helplessly at Richard’s blade, realising upon closer inspection that this dagger had a faint aura that made him feel a violent chill. Extinction was a famous legendary weapon that would be valued in any family; it was no wonder that Richard said his appraisal skills were poor.
Being a dagger used by assassins, Extinction had a minimal aura. Those who did not know would think it was a simple, crude, and ordinary blade. This failure was like a slap on Foster’s face.
Richard’s gaze shifted to the burly youth. He sized the man up a few times before asking, “You’re a Schumpeter?”
The man’s voice grew more stern, his fighting spirit erupting from his fists, “Let me ask you again, why are you in possession of Sinclair’s blade?”
If not for the two paladins beside Richard, he would have taken action long ago. The paladins themselves weren’t powerful enough to worry him, but they were backed by the Church of the Eternal Dragon. Even their family head, Dario, would not dare to lay a hand on them.
Richard looked at the young man once again, suddenly smiling, “I don’t think you have the guts to do anything here. Get out of my way!”
“You!” The young man gritted his teeth, his fists clenched so tight that his knuckles were almost green.
The two paladins guarding Richard stepped forward at that moment, “Sir Richard is an important guest of the Church of the Eternal Dragon, do not block his path. Insist on doing so and Lord Ferdinand will be paying your family a visit!”
The faces of both the Schumpeter youth and Foster turned ashen. They had no choice but to give way; a small break in the normalcy of Faust wasn’t worth much, but angering the Church of the Eternal Dragon would land them in severe trouble from their families. Their arrogance could not be shown to everyone; fighting a power beyond one’s capabilities was absolute foolishness.
The Schumpeter man finally realised Richard’s identity, his eyes filled with vengeance. Just as Richard was passing him, he suddenly exclaimed, “You better spend your whole life hiding in Faust! The moment you take one step out, I, Micah, will definitely kill you!”
Richard laughed, not even turning around as he responded, “Childish. If the opportunity arises, I would rather see you on a planar battlefield. I will eliminate the entire Schumpeter Family, just like I did Sinclair.”
Micah was stunned, his face turning white as a sheet while his vengeful eyes almost pierced through Richard’s back! He finally had news about Sinclair, something he had desired for a while now, but he didn’t dare to rush up and fight. One thing was clear to him. If Richard dared to parade around Faust with Sinclair’s dagger, then whatever level he was at he would not be a match. It didn’t matter that he was a level 15 warrior who was an outstanding genius amongst the Schumpeter youths.
Foster suddenly spoke up from behind Richard, “Master Lunor will be holding a rune convention in three days. It will also be my official promotion to become a true runemaster. If you’re interested, I can send you an invite.”
“Not interested. I have my own convention at the same time,” Richard responded nonchalantly.
Foster squinted his eyes, snorting loudly. He seethed out a pleasantry from the gaps between his clenched teeth, “I hope people will attend your convention!”
……
Richard’s sudden arrival shocked most people on island 7-2. He saw many unfamiliar faces the moment he stepped out, amongst them footsoldiers, young nobles, and some people of unknown origin.
“Richard!” they cried out when they saw him, “How could it be him? Richard is back!”
Their faces were filled with astonishment and panic. Two people even reached for their weapons, while another ran back towards the floating island to report to someone.
He registered all their expressions and reactions in a flash. These people were stood idly in front of the portal, walking up and down; clearly, their task was to keep watch. Their eyes had actually grown fierce the moment they realised his identity; the only reason they didn’t dare make a move was the two paladins who emerged behind him.
Even though he had been informed about the events on the island before, Richard was still somewhat shocked by how easily these people were running amok. A seething rage surged forth from his heart, but he still remained cool and expressionless on the outside.
He took big strides towards the castle but was quickly blocked by a few people. "Wait! This is the Archeron Family’s floating island, you cannot enter as you please,” someone said with a frivolous smile.
“I am Richard Archeron.”
“I know that you are Young Master Richard…” Someone else only managed to get half his sentence out before he was stopped by his companion’s death stare.
An armoured soldier stepped forward, sword in hand as he gazed at Richard with hostility. “Everyone knows that Young Master Richard died in spacetime turbulence!” he grunted, “Who the hell are you to pretend to be him? Leave, or I’ll kill you right now!”
Richard looked at the soldier, suddenly speaking up, “I recognize you! You’re Charles.”
The soldier was shocked. He had seen Richard when the boy had first stepped foot on the island. At that time, Richard had strolled around as Gaton picked out a few soldiers to showcase them as good examples of the qualities of a rune knight. He remembered that Gaton had only mentioned his name in passing, never expecting that Richard would actually remember it.
However, his expression still changed as he said icily, “Don’t try to be friendly with me! You’re not allowed to leave anymore, just stay here! Someone will come over to interrogate you soon.”
“Interrogate me?” Richard smiled coldly, drawing his blade. The amber moon appeared atop his head, everything around him lighting up with sword lights.
Charles’s head flew off his body into the sky, a look of horror still etched on his face. He would never have thought that Richard would kill him in such an abrupt fashion. This was the floating island, a place where the branch families had an absolute advantage. How would Richard dare to kill him?
It was only in the moment before his death that the man suddenly remembered how cruel and heartless Gaton was towards his enemies. The moment Richard brandished his sword, he saw an image of the Marquess in him.