Chapter 388: Randor Ironbeard [1]

Chapter 388: Randor Ironbeard [1]



"Uncle Ran!" Celeste's voice echoed through the tunnel, carrying a mix of urgency and relief. "Uncle Ran?" I glanced at her.

"I—It's what I call him," she replied, a blush creeping up her cheeks, betraying her embarrassment.

It was clear they shared a closer bond than I had initially assumed.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

An anticipatory silence fell between us, broken only by the distant sound of footsteps. The echoes grew louder, and soon, a small figure emerged from the shadows at the tunnel's far end.

The figure raised his hand, and a shimmering mana circle materialized in the air. As if responding to an unseen command, several more mana circles flared to life along the tunnel walls and ceiling, likely a network of traps he had set. After a few tense moments, the traps deactivated, the mana circles dissipating into the air, and the ceiling lights flickered on, bathing the tunnel in a soft, warm glow.

Now fully illuminated, the figure revealed himself to be an old man. His brown hair was streaked with grey, and his beard, styled in the fashion of Viking warriors, added to his rugged appearance. Despite his gruff demeanor, there was a certain warmth in his eyes.

As we approached, I noted his short stature; his head barely reached my chest. His expression was stern, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously as he took in my presence.

"Uncle," Celeste called out softly, her voice filled with affection.

Randor's expression softened at her words. "My little Celeste, you've grown so much," he said, a hearty laugh rumbling from his chest.

"Didn't you get smaller, uncle?" Celeste teased with a giggle, wrapping her arms around him in a warm embrace.

"Little fool! You're the one who got taller!" Randor chuckled, the sound rich and full of affection.

Though I found their reunion heartwarming, a sense of urgency pressed on me. "Happy for you both, but can I speak now?" I interjected, impatience creeping into my voice.

Randor's expression instantly shifted back to a scowl as he turned his gaze to me. "Who's this lad?" he demanded.

"Ah, he's Amael. Amael Olphean," Celeste introduced me.

Randor's eyes widened in surprise. "Connor's brother?"

"You know my brother?" I asked, taken aback by yet another person who seemed familiar with Connor.

"Yeah, I know him," Randor confirmed but offered no further details.

Turning his attention back to Celeste, he asked, "And why did you bring him here? You must trust him a lot to bring him to this place, little Celeste."

Given Randor's status as a highly sought target, under strict protection by the Zestella House, only those within the royal family likely knew of his whereabouts.

"Wait, Celes. I really need him," I said, raising my hand to stop her.

This was crucial. This man was no ordinary blacksmith. He was the greatest smith blessed by Hephaestus, trained by the best. He could forge weapons that might even rival the Holy

Weapons of Eden, like Trinity Nihil, if given the right resources.

Securing his skills could change the fate of the Second Game and even the Third Game. I didn't want to force him, but if I had to, I wouldn't hesitate.

I wasn't as compassionate as Celeste or her mother. The world was threatened with destruction in the next three years at the end of the Third Game. Of course, I couldn't just tell him that; not like he would believe me anyway.

"Edenis Raphiel is corrupted to the core," Randor began, his voice heavy with bitterness. "It's considered the most beautiful place in the world, and I'll admit, in my long life, I've never seen anything like it. But the inhabitants and rulers are rotten beneath their masks of kindness and holiness."

"I agree with you on that point," I said, a knowing smile tugging at my lips.

"But you're no better than them, brat. The way you're speaking, threatening me to make a weapon for you—it's all out of pure selfishness. When I wanted to spread my knowledge and my inventions, they threatened me. They wanted our arts solely for themselves. I continued under duress, but once I understood what they were doing with my carefully crafted and blood-stained arts, I stopped."

"And they started slaughtering your people and pinned the blame on Ante-Eden," I said, finishing his thought.

"They did. I fled. I had to. My weapons were already smeared with the blood of innocents. Staying any longer would have only led to more violence and innocent bloodshed," Randor said, looking down at his worn, wrinkled palms. Scars, like rivers of pain, ran up his entire

arms.

Celeste stood in silence, her expression a mix of frustration and anger. She already knew this story, and it always filled her with righteous indignation.

"That day, I swore I wouldn't make any more weapons for anyone. I had caused enough death," Randor said with a bitter laugh. "Little Sara was truly kind. She didn't care about my talent but cared for my well-being..." His voice trailed off, sadness overwhelming him.

"Then, you let her die," I said, my tone turning cold and unyielding.

"What..." Randor's eyes widened in shock.

"A-Amael?!" Celeste was dumbfounded, her gaze darting between Randor and me.

Still holding Randor's gaze, I smiled. "Celes, I need to talk to Randor alone."

"No, I can't-"

"Don't worry, I won't hurt him. I need him, after all. But I need to speak with him alone," I

said, reassuring her.