Chapter 48.2.7: Farewells and Preparations
Armored Dragon Calendar Year 418 – Multiple POVs
[Narrator]
Claude is quite delusional.
It is true that he doesn't understand the rules on mastery classification that differentiate between classes above the Saint Grade.
For each style, they had a different type of mastery name for their title.
For example, a sword god needs to be strong enough to defeat the current sword god to have the title.
But, for the water god style, one needed to master all the techniques in order to be called a water god.
Then there's the North God.
Leaving aside the technique god that no one's heard of all this time, and the living Dragon god, there aren't any clear rules for becoming a North God because only immortal swordsmen from the Kalman lineage have held the North God ranks in the history of the world.
However, anyone can be referred to as a North God if the majority of people believe they are. Funny, right?
Every god's title had a different point for one to reach the title standard.
Which means the fact that Claude classified his other styles by himself is quite delusional.
He can only rank it based on the way Garus, the North Sword Saint, and Paul classified themselves.
Why are we suddenly explaining this? It's because of Claude's 4th memory.
In this memory, he learned more about the fighting styles of all the people this 4th version interacted with. Unlike the other 3 versions, this fourth one actually had more "experience" in regards to these kinds of things.
Did it mean that the 4th version is another prodigy in the other style version?
No, he's the most normal Claude of all the versions we've met until now.
It can be said that he's one of the closest main timelines to where Claude died in Metastasis. Then again, how would we know?
Claude's Miko ability is a big mystery by itself. It's still unknown what this ability can do and what it can't do.
For now, Claude has summarized that he can receive the other Claude's memories, but all of them came from a dream.
They are like pieces of puzzles that Claude needed to gather and solve piece by piece.
Making it hard for him to retrieve the needed memories.
Not all of the memories can be recovered as they don't have eidetic memory. All he can recover is the memory where the sender deeply wishes to share it with Claude.
[Claude POV]
Right now, I'm still in the City of Crime.
Two weeks have passed since I visited my parents' graves. Two weeks of cleaning up Underground A's operations, tightening security protocols, and preparing for the next phase of Arbalest's expansion.
Somar had taken his leave to visit his own parents' graves before heading to the Great Forest. He'd been given the task of creating a hub in the Dedoldia tribe while also training them in espionage.
Although Somar couldn't be said to be the best in this line of work, he was a great leader who could command the group effectively.
Charles, or C as I'd taken to calling him in the field, helped implement one reform after another, snuffing out any spy sent by other groups while keeping potential double agents at bay.
The organization began to truly take shape.
"This place became better after two weeks, huh, right C..."
"Yes sir. I never thought there'd be this many things that needed to be fixed in this group. It's fortunate that we can tie up some loose ends."
"Somar did well considering his circumstances. It's not like he received the same training you all did." I leaned back. "The fact that he managed to keep things running while dealing with his own grief shows real leadership potential. Somar is still fourteen, not an age where anyone should have to be perfect under such pressure."
C simply stared at me, his expression unreadable.
I knew what he was thinking. That Mike, Somar, and I were different entities and couldn't be called normal.
That we were exceptional in our areas of expertise, forged by circumstances that would have broken lesser individuals.
He wasn't wrong.
Two weeks had been enough for Underground A to fortify their standing here.
This allowed our surveillance network to improve dramatically.
The Millis Continent was crucial to Arbalest because Underground A served as our "eyes and ears" in the region.
This was Arbalest's information network operating from the shadows.
With this foundation, given more time, Arbalest could create a better foothold in both the Central Continent and the Millis Continent.
It would enable us to fortify our foundation in this world.
"We just don't have a world-class power to help us develop further," I said, voicing the strategic concern that had been gnawing at me.
C nodded at the remark, recognizing the practical reality we faced.
With a world-ranked person under our banner, we could move more safely, the reputation of a world-class power was enough to make even kingdoms think twice before acting.
Although even without one, we could still become a formidable entity by ourselves. We still required a deterrent to make others afraid of crossing us.
[Rudeus POV]
The farewell came sooner than I expected.
Three days after discovering Claude's parents on the deceased list, we received word that he was preparing to leave the Criminal City.
Our paths were diverging. We'd head toward the Central Continent and eventually Fittoa.
While Claude remained in Milishion to handle Arbalest operations.
Paul suggested we visit before departing. "He saved your life more than once, Rudeus."
"The least we can do is say goodbye properly."
So we made our way to the Criminal City. The district lived up to its name.
Narrow streets, suspicious looks, and the constant awareness that danger lurked in every shadow.
But Paul led us confidently, following directions Claude had provided.
Underground A's headquarters was hidden beneath a legitimate trading house. We descended stairs that seemed to go on forever, until we reached a reinforced door where guards checked our credentials before allowing entry.
Claude was waiting in what appeared to be a command center, maps covering the walls, reports stacked on tables. The operation was more sophisticated than I'd imagined.
"You came," he said, looking up from a document he'd been reviewing. "I wasn't sure you would."
"Of course we came," Eris declared. "You think we'd leave without saying goodbye..."
"Some people would." His expression softened slightly.
"Thank you."
We stood in awkward silence for a moment. What do you say to someone who had done so much, lost so much, and still kept moving forward...
"The meeting with the Water God," I said finally. "Mike mentioned it's tomorrow..."
"Yes. A dojo on the other side of the city."
"Formal introduction, negotiation for training and partnership." Claude's voice carried its usual calculating tone. "It's a significant opportunity for Arbalest."
"And for you," Ruijerd observed. "Training with one of the seven great powers."
"That too."
"Will you be okay..." The question escaped before I could stop it.
"After... everything..."
Claude's expression flickered. He knew what I meant.
His parents. The weight he carried. The mask he wore.
"I'll be fine," he said. The lie was obvious, but I didn't call him on it.
"You should worry about yourselves. The journey to the Central Continent is dangerous."
"Stay with Paul's group, follow Ruijerd's advice, and don't do anything stupid."
"That's rich, coming from you," Eris muttered.
"I do calculated stupid things. That's different."
Despite the heaviness, I found myself smiling. This was Claude, always with a retort, always in control, even when everything was falling apart.
"Take care of yourself," I said. "And... your parents would be proud."
"Of what you've built, what you're doing."
His jaw tightened. For a moment, I thought he might actually show real emotion.
Then the mask settled back into place.
"They'd probably lecture me about working too hard," he said lightly. "My mother was always worried I'd forget to eat."
"My father would say I needed to spend more time with people my own age instead of building organizations."
"They wouldn't be wrong," Paul added.
"Probably not." Claude stood, extending his hand.
"Safe travels, Rudeus. Try not to die before we meet again."
I clasped his hand. "Same to you."
Eris punched his shoulder, not gently. "You better not slack off on your training."
"Next time we spar, I'm going to beat you!"
"I look forward to the attempt."
Ruijerd simply nodded, the gesture carrying more weight than words.
As we prepared to leave, Claude spoke once more.
"Rudeus. When you encounter the Dragon God..."
I froze. "What..."
"You'll know when it happens. Don't fight him."
"You can't win. Just... survive. And remember that some meetings are necessary, even when they're painful."
The prophetic warning sent chills down my spine. "You've seen this..."
"Fragments. Possibilities."
His expression was unreadable. "Just promise me you'll survive it."
"I promise."
We left Underground A's headquarters with more questions than answers. But that was Claude, always three steps ahead, always seeing futures we couldn't imagine.
I just hoped those futures included one where we all made it through alive.
[Claude POV]
After they left, I returned to my work.
The portrait was the final piece of preparation. I'd hired an artist, one of Underground A's contractors who specialized in discrete commissions.
The drawing needed to be precise. Detailed. Recognizable.
I described her from the 4th memory. Silver hair, sharp eyes, the bearing of someone trained in combat. The clothing style of Water God practitioners.
"You want us to find this person?" the artist asked after completing the sketch.
"Eventually. Not yet."
I studied the portrait. It captured her likeness, or at least the likeness from a memory, I'd inherited from a dead alternate self.
"Distribute copies to key operatives. If she appears in Milishion, I want to know immediately."
"Understood, sir."
The 4th memory had been haunting me since it arrived. A Claude who had lived a normal life, no Miko abilities, no fragmented knowledge, no organization to build.
Just a boy who had died in the Metastasis Event alongside countless others.
But in that alternate timeline, before his death, he had encountered someone. A silver-haired girl with a sword at her hip.
A disciple of the Water God.
And he had fallen in love.
Not the calculated, strategic kind of attraction I'd learned to weaponize. Not the careful consideration of political alliances.
Just... love. Simple. Pure. Impossible.
That Claude had died without ever speaking to her, having watched her from a distance. Knowing he would never have the courage to approach a legend's granddaughter.
And in his final moments, as the Metastasis took him, he had sent me that memory. That regret.
Don't make my mistake, the echo whispered. Don't die with words unspoken.
The dying wish pressed. An obligation I couldn't ignore.
Tomorrow, I would meet the Water God. Tomorrow, I would likely meet her granddaughter.
And I would have to decide whether to honor a dead man's regret or maintain the careful control that had kept me alive this long.
Inside me, something stirred with conflicting opinions.
Something dismissive rejected the idea. Romance was a distraction. Focus on survival. Focus on power.
Something cooler calculated probabilities. Association with the Water God provided strategic value. Personal feelings complicated the equation.
Something quieter offered understanding. The weight of regret—dying with words unspoken. Honor the 4th. He deserved that much.
"C," I called. "Prepare for departure."
"We leave for the dojo at first light."
"Yes, sir. Should I arrange an escort?"
"No. Just you and me. This is a diplomatic meeting, not a military operation."
"Understood."
I returned to reviewing the final reports from Underground A. Operations were stable, security protocols implemented, intelligence networks functional.
Somar would handle things when he returned from the Great Forest.
Everything was in order.
Everything except the tightness that wouldn't settle.
Tomorrow would change things—the same way I'd felt the Metastasis approaching. The same way I felt every major turning point.
Tomorrow, I would meet Isolte Cruel.
And I would have to decide whether a dead man's love was worth risking everything for.
[Narrator]
That night, Claude barely slept.
He stared at the ceiling of his temporary quarters, wrestling with the weight of obligation and uncertainty.
The 4th memory pulsed in his consciousness. A reminder. A plea. A dying wish that demanded fulfillment.
Don't make my mistake, it whispered. Don't die with words unspoken.
Claude closed his eyes and made his decision.
Tomorrow, he would honor the 4th.
Tomorrow, he would be brave.
Even if it destroyed everything.
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