If Warden Magru Trell hadn’t been digging into Menielman Soumet’s affairs or forcing Charlot to betray his senior sister, no one could have shaken his position. He could have remained in the lucrative role of Kilmainham Prison’s warden indefinitely.
Charlot couldn’t understand why, in this world, some people were so desperate to climb higher that they would stop at nothing to get there. That alone was baffling, but what was even more absurd was how they only saw the potential benefits without considering how devastating the consequences could be if it all backfired.
Magru Trell did not come from a privileged background. If the former warden had even a modicum of support or connections, he wouldn’t have been left completely helpless after his fall from power, nor would he have suffered so cruelly at the hands of the Prison Army. Who knew how much effort and sacrifice it took for him to rise to the position of Kilmainham Prison’s warden? Yet, in the end, his downfall led to the destruction of his family—despicable, yes, but also tragically pitiful.
Charlot had only understood nobles of feudal dynasties through books before, but after meeting Annie Bretagne’s cousin Clair Bretagne and Ebner Soumet, he had fully grasped the truth behind the saying: “Knowledge gained from books remains shallow; true understanding comes from personal experience.” In this world, nobles and commoners were entirely different creatures.
He found it hard to believe that those two young officers had relied solely on their abilities to become seventeenth-ranked Grand Knights. One of them, still so young, was already a first-class lieutenant at the twenty-fourth rank, while the other, slightly less talented, held the position of fifth-class centurion at the twenty-fifth rank.
Though they were adversaries, Charlot understood well that Aubrey Tildon Atwood, President of the Fierce Horse Detective Agency, and Warden Magru Trell represented the upper limits of what ordinary people could achieve.
After Magru Trell’s death, his body suffered a backlash from the curse, disintegrating into ash, leaving behind only a small, dark residue on the ground.
Charlot approached it and kicked it twice, unable to identify what it was. He had barely studied alchemy at university.
While he debated whether to crush the remains underfoot or pick them up for appraisal—admittedly, he found such remnants extracted from a corpse to be distasteful—an eager voice interrupted him: “Sir, would you be willing to sell the remains of that curse to me?”
Charlot looked up to see two men. Though he didn’t know them personally, he immediately recognized their black coats—a signature of the Fierce Horse Detective Agency.
Charlot smirked, amused, and asked, “How much are you offering?”
The speaker was Reggie Asu. He had identified the cursed remains at a glance. Although the Cursed Armament had been completely destroyed, these remnants could still be processed into valuable alchemical materials. Reggie had long wanted to commission an alchemy master to craft a set of Cursed Armament for himself but had yet to gather all the necessary components. Even if he couldn’t use this particular material, it was highly valuable for trade. Alchemical materials were so scarce that most merchants refused to accept gold écus and would only trade in kind.
After considering for a moment, Reggie offered, “Ten écus!”
Charlot smiled mysteriously and said, “I graduated from Sheffield University.”
Of course, Charlot wasn’t boasting about his alma mater. He was subtly implying that he knew exactly what this thing was worth, even though, in reality, he had no idea.
The Sheffield University name worked wonders. Reggie mulled it over briefly before raising his offer: “Twenty-five écus. That’s the highest I can go. You might get a slightly better price from merchants, but they’ll insist on appraisal and evaluation, which is a complicated process. You could be waiting half a month to see any money.”
Charlot found Reggie’s argument convincing and said, “Cash.”
Reggie nodded, leaving his companion behind as he turned to withdraw the funds.
Half an hour later, Reggie returned with a bag of money, having just withdrawn it from the Savings Union. Charlot counted the paper notes carefully, using the verification methods he had learned at university to confirm their authenticity. Satisfied, he said, “It’s yours now.”
The transaction complete, both parties went their separate ways.
As Charlot climbed back into his carriage, Karenda Modi glanced back at him and murmured to his companion, “He must have recognized us.”
Reggie Asu smiled faintly and replied, “But he pretended not to. Didn’t he?”
Karenda Modi sighed with a hint of envy: “With that cursed residue, you should be able to finish your set of Cursed Armament.”
Reggie nodded, visibly excited. “I might need some funds in the coming days. Lend me a little?”
Karenda Modi spread his hands and said, “We’ve been colleagues for years. Lending you money is no problem.”
...
Charlot settled back into the carriage and instructed Mrs. Nancy, “Take us to 58 Elysée Avenue.”
As the carriage began moving, Charlot became engrossed in further refining his understanding of Blood Glory. Through combat, he had confirmed that rather than directly activating Blood Glory, channeling it through each Blood Rune into separate Blood Vortexes could amplify its power significantly.
With four Blood Vortexes active, each technique infused with a Blood Rune could be enhanced by thirty percent.
At last, Charlot understood how Protagoras had become invincible, a scourge of the blood clans. That great human sage had undoubtedly refined thirteen Blood Vortexes. In other words, every one of his techniques was instantly amplified by twelvefold!
At the same rank, who could possibly withstand an enemy whose power suddenly doubled?
With this newfound understanding, Charlot began digesting the life essence he had absorbed through a new method. It was indeed much faster than before. Magru Trell, as a seventh-ranked Knight, had abundant life force. By the time Charlot arrived at 58 Elysée Avenue, his right leg twitched slightly—he had successfully activated his fifth Blood Vortex.
In other words, Charlot had finally ascended to the fifth rank of Transcendents.
...
The following morning, Charlot had just risen when there was a loud knock on the door. Mrs. Nancy hurried up from the basement to answer it. After a brief exchange, the door opened, and Annie Bretagne burst in like a whirlwind, abandoning all pretense of noble decorum as she rushed up to the third floor.
Charlot was still dressing when Annie charged into his room. The noblewoman looked anxious as she exclaimed, “Something’s wrong! My cousin’s army has been ordered to the frontlines!”
“He specifically sent someone to apologize to me. He won’t be able to help you in your duel.”
Charlot was startled but quickly regained his composure. After all, he hadn’t been counting entirely on external assistance. Smiling calmly, he said, “Miss Annie, thank you for letting me know. Though I, too, am disappointed, I fully understand Clair and Ebner’s situation. They are soldiers, after all, and must obey the orders of their country.”
“My duel is merely a private affair and cannot interfere with the nation’s security. They’ve made the right choice.”
Annie knew there was no arguing with military deployments. Her cousin and Ebner had no say in the matter. Still, she couldn’t bear the thought of Charlot facing danger alone. Worriedly, she asked, “What will you do? You can’t possibly defeat a high-ranked Transcendent!”
Charlot also understood that he stood no chance in the duel against a high-ranked Transcendent unless, of course, the duel took place at the Machubi Fortress.
For a moment, he found himself missing that fortress and its labyrinthine structure.