Turning-Chapter 829

The Sage. The Wise One. Azihen Thum.

In that brief moment watching Yuder Aile fight, the man once called by many names remembered, for the first time in ages, the name he used to bear.

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Once, he’d had a plain and rustic name—Kal Enphile. His job, too, was nothing remarkable: a low-level government official.

That position was often filled by fallen nobles without money. The work itself was unimpressive, and it required frequent dealings with commoners, making it a degrading and humiliating role in every way.

But for those with no inherited land, no titles left—having sold even their ranks—or the money or strength to become knights, left with only a surname and old glory to chew on, that lowly official’s job was the only thread of hope.

If you grabbed the right rope, you could be promoted. At least to fourth class. That was high enough to live comfortably in a large house within the Capital, without envy of others.

Kal Enphile also became a low-ranking official chasing that dream.

He had no shortage of selfish ambition, nor the eloquence to wrap it up nicely. He had a unique knack for reading the hearts of the unfortunate and coaxing them with silky words—few could match his talent in that regard.

But even with such talent, success remained out of reach. Kal Enphile first realized he’d never beat the “real ones” when he met the current Chancellor, Hebraina Leiplang.

Hebraina had entered government later than Kal. But she was born into a far more prestigious noble house and was popular in social circles for her refined looks.

It wasn’t uncommon for noblewomen unwilling to marry to become officials. But Hebraina went so far as to marry, too.

And yet, she snatched away the promotion Kal had been eyeing for years almost as soon as she arrived. To Kal, it was a bolt from the blue.

He clung to every effort to block her rise. He attacked her relentlessly, even going so far as to demand a public debate on who was more fit for the position. The result was catastrophic.

Up until that point, Kal had thought of Hebraina Leiplang as nothing more than a woman who was lucky to be born into the right family, someone utterly incompetent. Rumor had it she applied for office to reform the corrupt traditions of the bureau—a laughably naive ambition, he thought.

A pampered noble like her could never beat someone like him.

But he was wrong.

On the day of the debate—her eloquence was overwhelming, like some monster beyond human reach. And despite the topic being outside her official scope, she seemed to know everything about how the bureau worked. Her encyclopedic command crushed Kal with ease.

Kal Enphile, who had always taken pride in his ability to manipulate people and quietly felt superior, couldn’t make a single meaningful rebuttal. He crumbled, utterly.

Even those who had disliked Hebraina before the debate couldn’t object to her promotion after witnessing it.

Kal fell from grace in a storm of mockery and pity. And Hebraina, now promoted, launched a full audit of all Kal’s past work, then demoted him to some backwater archive in the Blue-Stain Library.

The marriage prospects he’d been negotiating evaporated after that incident. And as Hebraina continued her unprecedented streak of promotions and eventually rose to Chancellor, people began avoiding Kal Enphile like a plague.

And now—

Even though he had long discarded the name Kal Enphile after gaining new powers, the moment he saw °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° Yuder Aile sweeping everything away, the memory of that old public debate flashed through the Sage’s mind.

Up until now, the Sage had believed the Cavalry’s upper hand against them came primarily from Naham’s betrayal. Not that their strength was terrible, but in a rigged game, true ability didn’t matter much anyway.

So he had quietly dismissed Yuder Aile’s strength as nothing special.

He’d heard the rumors—that Yuder was an Awakener who could wield multiple attributes. But the Sage had met many such Awakeners and knew that ability alone wasn’t necessarily impressive.

Even the monster subjugation event that earned Yuder the title “Hero of the West” would’ve been impossible without the help of the Nagran’s Star Awakeners who were stationed in the West. Yet no one knew of their existence.

All the wealth and fame went solely to Yuder Aile—and to the Cavalry.

A cunning brat.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

A twenty-year-old Awakener who snatched away the Sage’s long-awaited shot at success before he could grasp it himself.

He’d become a noble—the first commoner in decades to receive a title from the Emperor. He’d received numerous awards. Though the barony he earned was a single-rank nobility, that hardly mattered.

Once you became a noble, even minor accomplishments could pave the road to higher positions. Anyone with half a brain knew that.

“That’s what I thought...”

But now, facing him in person—the look in that bastard’s eyes was nothing like the Sage had imagined.

He was ruthless, yet not swept up in emotion. That made him all the more terrifying—his overwhelming power was crushing.

It wasn’t the gaze of a brat drunk on early success.

It lacked the recklessness typical of young men who had great strength but lacked experience.

The Sage’s Awakeners crumbled at just a few of Yuder Aile’s movements—unable to even fight back properly.

If a black reaper took human form, it would look like him.

That merciless demeanor... the way he looked at the Sage mid-battle, as if marking his next prey... that overwhelming skill that left no room for resistance—it all brought back memories of that debate with Hebraina Leiplang.

Even the Sage, who was well-versed in pretending to be kind and righteous—so much that he could do it in his sleep—couldn’t stay calm in the face of a memory that had once upended his entire life.

His carefully prepared strongholds, all those Awakeners he’d brainwashed just enough to be useful—he didn’t even know where they had gone. All of it had collapsed.

And the Duke of Diarca, whom he’d believed would become a new ladder to success, hadn’t changed much even after the major achievement of breaching the Solar Palace. His son, Kiole di Diarca, who knew nothing of real power, strangely seemed to loathe and distrust the Sage.

At one point, the Sage had even considered brainwashing Kiole outright out of sheer irritation, but the brat didn’t even bother to hide his dislike, making it nearly impossible to gain his trust and get the chance.

The Sage decided it would be easier to just brainwash Duke Diarca and then quietly kill Kiole without a trace.

Capturing the young Crown Prince had been a stroke of luck, but even with his mind artificially uplifted by brainwashing, his mental state was precarious—like a stone tower stacked too high.

The Crown Prince’s unpredictable, self-centered personality made him too dangerous for a long-term alliance. Besides, the real power lay not with him but with Duke Diarca, which made the prince far less attractive as a strategic piece.

Originally, the plan had been to gain ground through the Crown Prince, complete the missions given by Duke Diarca, and bring the Star of Nagran into the Capital. With their power, they could’ve crushed the Cavalry’s influence, suppressed the Emperor’s forces, and even a crafty old fox like the Duke would’ve come to trust him.

“Then I could’ve brainwashed him easily...”

Where had it all gone wrong? He had weighed every variable that could pose a threat and proceeded with the utmost caution.

In that brief moment watching Yuder rampage, the Sage bit his lip, full of resentment and regret.

His brainwashing ability was incredibly useful—but it came with limitations. He could bypass them, but forcing the ability drained his stamina and left mental and physical damage.

He had already used it repeatedly to stop Naham, draining his strength. He didn’t show it, but his body was now half-paralyzed. The aftereffects of intense psychic strain made it hard to think clearly.

Only short, simple thoughts... sharp emotions, desires, and instincts were now slowly taking over.

The Sage trembled in pain. He wanted to give up and turn tail—run away from all of this.

But in the simplicity of his thoughts, in the fog that made him forget his rage toward Naham for a moment, one overlooked possibility suddenly rose to the surface.

“Against someone like that... even betting everything to run might not be enough. But if he’s trying to face me alone... maybe—just maybe—that could become an opportunity.”

Yuder Aile released his power to finish off the last Awakener the Sage had sent.

In that instant, the Sage's eyes darted across the battlefield—and caught a glimpse of Duke Peleta, seemingly speaking with someone from Naham’s faction. Other Cavalry members were busy carrying the wounded to safety from earlier battles.

“Even in this state... I still have strength left. A power more useful than anything in a situation like this...”