Ascension from Dual Professions

Chapter 246: Chapter 235: Reunion at the Banquet, the Tragedy of Nomu Village

The night deepened, but the atmosphere inside Grent Manor only grew more lively.

The manor’s banquet hall was now ablaze with light and buzzing with voices.

A roaring fire in the hearth dispelled the winter night’s chill, and the air was filled with the aroma of roasted meat, the comforting warmth of stew, and the wheaty scent of freshly baked bread.

Apprentices bustled about, setting the long tables, their faces beaming with excited smiles—they were genuinely overjoyed at the return of their Workshop master, Mr. Jon, the hero who had saved the town.

The siblings, Moon and Sati, stood in a somewhat crowded corner of the great hall, feeling awkward and out of place.

The lively scene before them was clearly beyond anything they had imagined.

Their shock intensified when they saw the Mechanical Bodies stationed at key points around the manor, each exuding a metallic sheen and a faint glimmer of Magic Power. A storm of astonishment raged within them.

"Brother... looking at all this... Mr. Jon... I don’t think he’s just an advisor to some noble..."

Sati kept her voice extremely low, as if afraid of causing the slightest offense to her surroundings.

She had assumed Jon was perhaps an advisor to some reclusive noble family, a man of considerable power and means. She never would have imagined that he himself was the true master of this enormous Workshop!

Moon also swallowed hard. His gaze swept across the spirited young apprentices, who all regarded Jon with deep respect. He then looked toward the brightly lit Workshop area in the distance. Finally, his eyes settled on Jon, who was surrounded by people and speaking in low tones with the Old Dwarf Sutton and the Elf Claudio. He spoke with awe.

"We’ve... run into someone truly incredible."

Meanwhile, in stark contrast to the Warrior siblings’ shock and restraint, Dolores was like a purple butterfly that had found its home in the forest, energetically flitting around Rosalind.

Her amber eyes sparkled, full of curiosity and excitement.

"Hey, Rosalind! Is this roasted venison the way the Boss likes it? Should we add more rosemary?"

"Wow! This mead smells amazing! How’s the Boss with his drink? Can he really hold his liquor?"

"These Mechanical Bodies look incredible! How did the Boss even think of making them? Was he a super-genius as a kid...?"

She fired off a barrage of questions while helping set the table, so comfortable and familiar you’d think she had lived in the manor for ages.

And her tomboyish cheerfulness and unabashed adoration for Jon made even the quiet-loving Rosalind let the icy look in her eyes soften.

"The Master, of course, possesses an intellect beyond our imagination... Without him, none of this would exist..."

"As for the Master’s past, it would be more fitting for him to tell you himself."

Then, remembering the Master’s earlier reminder that this lively, purple-haired Ranger would likely become one of their own, even someone as frosty as her couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

"If you get the chance, you can ask him yourself."

"Oh..."

The answer didn’t reveal much, but Dolores wasn’t discouraged. In fact, she felt that this seemingly icy, silver-haired woman was actually very kind, just not very talkative.

She enthusiastically continued to help, all the while imagining Jon’s magnificent and storied "past."

Just as the banquet’s atmosphere grew more festive and the long tables began to fill with sumptuous food, the doors to the hall were thrown open.

"Mr. Jon—!"

A clear cry, filled with urgency and unconcealed joy, rang out. Like a drop of water spattering in hot oil, it instantly drew everyone’s gaze.

Instantly, a shock of flamboyant, flame-like red hair leaped into view.

Reya, bundled in a thick cloak, had cheeks flushed from the cold wind. Her emerald eyes, however, shone like brilliant jade, instantly locking onto Jon’s figure in the crowd and lighting up with a dazzling radiance.

Without even taking a moment to unfasten her cloak, she strode forward.

Then, under the astonished yet somehow knowing gazes of everyone present, she unhesitatingly threw herself into Jon’s open arms.

The girl’s slender arms wrapped tightly around her beloved’s waist. She buried her face deep in his broad chest, her voice thick with a long-suppressed sob.

"You’re finally back! I missed you so much... I really, really missed you!"

Her straightforward, fervent emotion was like a stone dropped into a placid lake, sending ripples spreading through Jon’s heart.

He could clearly feel her body trembling slightly in his arms, a sign of her unreserved reliance on him—a reliance he had long ago resolved never to betray.

So he returned Reya’s embrace and answered softly.

"Yes, I’m back."

After a brief hug, Jon loosened his embrace slightly and looked down at the young woman, who now looked up at him.

Reya’s emerald eyes were glistening, the tip of her nose was red, but her face was filled mostly with the joy of their reunion.

He raised his hand and, with the pad of his thumb, naturally and gently wiped the moisture from the corner of her eye before asking with concern.

"How are you feeling? Have you recovered from the damage you took when you forced your Power? And how is Uncle Yed doing?"

Reya sniffled, trying to maintain a shred of ladylike composure, but her hands refused to loosen their grip on him in the slightest.

"Don’t worry about me. I was almost fully recovered a few days ago, really! As for my father..."

Her tone grew a little somber, but it held no trace of despair.

"Thanks to your Divine Technique, his condition has been very stable. Grandpa Ingram has also been checking on him every day. Everything is fine."

Jon studied her closely, and only after confirming her eyes held no trace of strain did he finally relax and nod.

"That’s good. As long as you’re all right and Uncle Yed is safe, I can rest easy."

His gaze swept past Reya to Xia and Xina, who stood quietly behind her with smiles on their faces. He gave them a slight nod of acknowledgment.

Next, his gaze turned to the others in the banquet hall, where all eyes were focused on him—the good-natured smiles of the Workshop apprentices, the awe from Moon and Sati, the sparkling curiosity in Dolores’s amber eyes, and Rosalind’s silent, gentle gaze from her place a short distance away, her cool expression softened...

Jon gently patted Reya’s shoulder, motioning for her to stand by his side.

Then, he straightened his back and surveyed the room, his intangible presence instantly quelling all the quiet chatter.

His deep, clear voice then carried throughout the brightly lit banquet hall.

"Everyone!"

"Thank you all for your hard work and your enthusiastic welcome!"

"Tonight, with the wind and snow at bay, we gather here together!"

"And now—"

His voice rose.

"Let the banquet begin! Let us raise our glasses and enjoy this moment together!"

The moment his words fell, the briefly subdued festive atmosphere erupted like a flood bursting through a dam!

Cheers, the clinking of glasses, and the excited shouts of the apprentices mingled together, creating a sea of celebration.

...

Meanwhile, in the distant Nomu Village, the scene was one straight out of Hell.

The once-sparse thatched huts were now nothing but shattered ruins, casting twisted shadows under the bleak moonlight. A smell of burnt flesh and blood hung stagnant in the frigid air.

A figure completely shrouded in a deep, shadowy cloak stood silently in the village’s central clearing, as if they had stepped forth from Death itself.

At their feet lay the bodies of villagers, strewn about in disarray.

Hotte, Harlow, Alek...

Each of their bodies was stiff and twisted, their faces frozen with the terror and bewilderment of their final moments.

A cold wind blew past, lifting a corner of the cloak, but no face could be seen beneath it—only a heart-stopping void.

The cloaked figure slowly raised a gloved hand. A fist-sized orb of ethereal blue light swirled at their fingertips.

Within the orb, countless tiny, twisted gray threads writhed and wailed. They were Soul Fragments, not yet fully dissipated—the last remnants of Nomu Village’s pure pain and despair.

They lowered their head slightly, the shadows under the cloak seeming to gaze at the orb as if savoring a vintage wine.

The ethereal blue light illuminated the vague outline of their face, making the sight all the more grotesque.

After a moment, a gender-neutral voice sounded from beneath the cloak.

"Ahh... resentment, fear, bewilderment..."

Suddenly, with a slight twitch of their fingers, a few exceptionally clear, vicious threads—each with a strong, specific target—were precisely stripped from the orb.

Flickering within these threads was a blurry yet familiar figure—tall, with black hair and ice-blue eyes. It was Jon!

"Interesting..."

A hint of amusement entered the cloaked figure’s voice.

"A month ago, he was the ’Calamity Star’ of this dump, a pariah struggling just to survive, unable to even find a hot meal..."

"And now... he’s become a figure of such note that even the Duke has to take notice..."

They slowly closed their hand. The ethereal blue orb, which had absorbed the last of Nomu Village’s life and pain, silently winked out of existence.

All the wails and struggles instantly fell into a dead silence.

"What exactly changed you?"

"Was it the blood of Apollonia... or the teachings of that Dwarf Grandmaster? Or perhaps... something more sublime...?"

The cloaked figure’s last words, along with their voice, vanished into the wind and snow, and Nomu Village fell into an eternal, deathly silence.

As for the guard captain the villagers remembered leaving to find his subordinates... the figure couldn’t have cared less.