The Last Legendary Weapons Master: Rise of the strongest player-Chapter 48: Marked by the Hunt

"Wine!!" Asterion shouted again, beckoning Ethan to join him.

Ethan sighed, irritated by the suffocating stench of alcohol that filled the hall.

"Lord Asterion... I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I wish you would value your title a little more. You are called the King of Knights, after all."

He spoke with seriousness.

Asterion dismissed it with a careless wave.

"And what of it? What if others call me king? Or emperor? What do I gain from living up to their expectations?" He swirled the fine liquor in his bottle lazily. "Or yours?"

The Uncrowned Emperor’s voice turned dry.

"I gained nothing from those hollow titles but misery my entire life. And even if I look like a drunken old fool to you... even if I appear weak..."

His gaze sharpened faintly.

"I can still cut down every knight in this kingdom as easily as slicing soft cake."

He drank greedily again, and Ethan understood something clearly.

This old man would do as he pleased.

He would listen to no one.

So Ethan chose to yield .. completely.

"Fine, old man. Hand it over. From now on, I’ll be your drinking companion."

Asterion grinned.

"Now we’re talking."

Lightly, he tossed the half-empty bottle toward Ethan.

Ethan caught it and sat across from him.

Without hesitation, he lifted the bottle and drank what remained.

"Slow down, boy," Asterion laughed. "That drink isn’t for beginners."

Ethan belched harshly, wiping his mouth as his brows knitted.

"What in the hell is this cursed drink? My lips and throat feel like they’re burning... It’s like I swallowed fire."

"Hahaha! That’s Burning Vintage! The finest wine this miserable city can offer. A drink for men .. not boys!"

"Damn it."

Ethan muttered, feeling the crimson wine ignite within him.

"So. Here we are, Uncrowned Emperor. I’ve drunk with you. I’ve sat with you as you wished. What is it you wanted to talk about?"

He dropped formalities.

He was no longer a young man begging for instruction.

He was a drinking companion.

Asterion smiled, clearly pleased by the boy’s quick adaptation.

"You’re quite impatient, Ethan Heart. Why such urgency? Why do you seek power so desperately?"

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Is it because of your duel a month from now?"

Despite his intoxicated state, Asterion retained enough clarity to analyze the youth before him.

Ethan shook his head.

"No. My opponent in Maria’s Reckoning isn’t worth the effort. That matter is already decided."

"Oh?" Asterion chuckled. "You claim you’ll defeat him without me teaching you how to wield a sword? You’re still Beginner Rank, and he’s Advanced."

Ethan nodded calmly.

"That’s correct."

"Bwahahaha!!"

Asterion roared with laughter and opened another bottle.

"Marvelous! Where does that confidence come from? Is it courage? Recklessness? Empty words? Or can you support it with action?"

"You’ll find out in a month."

Ethan smiled.

Asterion smiled back.

"Very well then. If your decisive duel isn’t the reason... what is? What drives you to pursue strength?"

The Uncrowned Emperor was curious now.

And Ethan did not disappoint him.

"Because I am cursed."

His tone shifted.

Sharpened.

Asterion’s eyes narrowed.

"Explain."

"There’s no need to feign ignorance. You know exactly what I mean."

Ethan reached back slightly, gesturing toward the curse mark at the nape of his neck.

"I’ve been branded by the Curse of Night. And sooner or later... my name will be chosen. I will become prey."

For the first time since their drinking began..

Asterion grew serious.

"I won’t ask how you came by this information. We all have our secrets."

He paused, his gaze piercing.

"But tell me, Ethan Heart..."

He leaned forward slightly.

"Do you truly believe you can survive... the Wild Hunt?"

The Wild Hunt.

The name given to the black-armored knights known as the Legion of Night.

They were the nightmare Ethan feared most .. now that he bore the Blood Eclipse Curse.

The Legion of Night was led by one of the Night Lords.

The most active among them.

The most relentless.

A monstrous figure clad in black, mounted upon a steed draped in a shadowed cloak.

He was known as .. The Champion of Night.

Whenever the darkness of the curse stirred, it would whisper a name.

The chosen.

Once the curse spoke that name ..

The Night Lord would move.

The Champion of Night would ride.

And the Legion of Night would descend.

To hunt the marked bearer.

In this bleak world called Ordeal, there was no fate more miserable than this—

To be chosen by the curse for darkness.

Ethan bore the highest-ranking mark of the Blood Eclipse.

That alone made his chances of being selected... dangerously high.

It could happen at any time.

Perhaps in ten years.

Perhaps in one.

Or even .. Tomorrow.

No one knew.

But one truth remained certain:

When the appointed hour came, the Wild Hunt would ride for his head.

And he would become prey to one of the Night Lords.

The Wild Hunt was an omen of ruin.

Even the Uncrowned Emperor, with all his strength and mastery, was not confident he would survive if marked as its target.

So what, exactly, did Ethan hope for?

With a faint, strained smile, he lifted his head to meet Asterion’s gaze.

"I’m not foolish enough to claim I can survive the Wild Hunt," he said evenly. "But I dare to believe... that I would at least have a chance—if you were to teach me the sword, Sir Asterion Heart."

The moment the words left his mouth ..

Silence.

Just a few seconds.

Then the Uncrowned Emperor burst into thunderous laughter, drinking deeply once more.

He laughed and laughed until wine spilled from the corners of his mouth, running through his fiery red beard.

"A drunken old relic... and a dead man with little time left."

He tilted the bottle lazily.

"What sort of bond could possibly form between the two of us?"

Ethan forced himself to swallow the burning wine before replying quietly—yet clearly.

"That depends entirely on you."

He placed the decision squarely in Asterion’s hands.

Accept him as a companion and teach him the blade ..

Or dismiss him, and they would walk separate paths.

Asterion toyed with the wine bottle for several long seconds, as though lost in his own thoughts.

Then, in a low voice that barely carried ..

"The chance to alter the fate of a youth already sentenced to death..."

A faint chuckle.

"Why not?"

Though quiet, Ethan did not miss the words.

His fist tightened unconsciously.

"Does that mean—?"

"Don’t get ahead of yourself, boy," Asterion cut him off. He gestured lazily toward the decaying building around them. "I do not take disciples. Nor heirs."

He leaned back slightly.

"But I will show you the true path of the sword. Perhaps you’ll find something within it... something to fight your fate."