CHAPTER 53: A STAGED ENCOUNTER

Half an hour earlier, not far from Novarian’s current location, Arthur stood tall with an extremely serious expression on his face. As with his previous trip into the forest, he wore a black cloak that concealed his body, and in his right hand he carried the wooden mask, now slightly charred from what had happened the last time.

Laid out before him on the ground was a clean noble’s outfit, sky blue in color and adorned with golden trim. Beside the outfit sat a small barrel half-filled with Beast Lure

Arthur stared at the items with a complicated expression before sighing.

"These clothes are a bit ugly, but they’ll do. That Duncan has no sense of fashion."

There hadn’t been any especially elegant outfits that met Arthur’s strict requirements. Even after rummaging through all the castle’s wardrobes, this was the best he found—the very one Duncan used to wear to formal banquets.

’I’d normally say this doesn’t matter, but unfortunately, it does. That bastard Novarian still respects nobles deeply at this stage. If I look appropriately dignified, it’ll make talking to him easier... not to mention his annoying skill, which is the reason I have to go through all this.’

Without delay, he placed the mask over his face, hiding his features and giving himself a mysterious appearance. Then, with swift and methodical movements, he grabbed the Beast Lure from the barrel and sprayed it all over the noble outfit in front of him. His actions were swift and strange, but he didn’t stop there. As soon as he was finished, he stripped off his own clothes and removed the mask, then stored everything—including the Beast Lure —inside his Dimensional Storage.

Immediately after, he put on the noble outfit and added a few golden accessories to enhance the noble image. He also exposed the Fake Noble Seal, the pendant bearing the sigil of House Ravenshade. He adjusted his hairstyle slightly, even though the hair on the left side of his head was still awkwardly short. Within minutes, he had transformed into a picture of elegance and wealth.

To perfect his performance, he stood with a proud posture and wore an arrogant expression.

After a few moments of acting the part, he chuckled softly.

’I really don’t think this role suits me.’

Grrr!

While amusing himself to relieve the tension, he suddenly heard a low growl. He spun around to find a wolf creeping toward him. Frowning, he calmly waved his hand, and several roots shot up from the ground, wrapping around the wolf. The beast didn’t even have time to react before it was trapped and imprisoned where it stood.

Around him, in nearly every direction, dozens of magical beasts had already been caught and restrained by his Thorny Roots—wild monkeys, wolves, foxes, even a large eagle.

Over the past two hours in this forest near the Barony of Thornsreach, the scent of the Beast Lure he had sprinkled on the ground had drawn in many creatures. Of course, all of this was in preparation for his planned meeting with Novarian. He couldn’t meet the protagonist without some flair. The stage had to be set properly.

Arthur observed the number of beasts he had captured and thought,

’Alright, this should be enough. Unfortunately, my setup time is over.’

Before taking the next step, he stretched his body briefly and took a deep breath. Then he assumed a runner’s stance, and released all the beasts.

The sudden freedom confused them, but their attention quickly snapped toward the human who reeked of their favorite scent. On top of that, they were furious with him for imprisoning them.

Roars!

Screeches!

Arthur sprinted at full speed, a horde of enraged beasts chasing after him. To sell the act further, he occasionally let out panicked screams, though not once did he show real fear. Even in flight, he radiated the composure and arrogance of a true noble. Every step was calculated to orchestrate the perfect encounter.

Despite being capable of catching his breath, he didn’t pause. He continued running, circling the forest in search of his desired target. Sweat soaked into his fine clothes, and his hairstyle had long since unraveled—but he didn’t care.

After nearly twenty minutes of orchestrated fleeing, his efforts were finally rewarded.

There—standing proudly in the distance—was his goal. A young man around nineteen years old.

Arthur glanced around in apparent panic before shouting the line he had rehearsed:

"Run, man! Get out of here!"

As expected, Novarian drew his sword and gave a faint, arrogant smile.

’Dammit, that bastard looks so damn cool when he acts like that.’

Arthur shook his head, dismissing the random thought, and shouted again, this time more urgently:

"I said run, you idiot!"

...

At the same time, Novarian cast a strengthening spell on himself, bolstering his physical power and defense. His arsenal of skills was enough to make anyone gape in shock. With unwavering confidence, he prepared to face down the dozens of E- and D-rank beasts chasing the supposed noble, not out of any affection for him, but simply because he couldn’t stand by while someone was in danger. More importantly, the man looked like a noble, and Novarian deeply respected nobility.

His admiration wasn’t arbitrary. It stemmed from a traumatic event in his childhood.

Nine years ago, because of his striking appearance, a wealthy slave trader passing through his village took notice of him. The man kidnapped him and caged him with a shipment of other slaves, planning to sell him to some depraved nobles for an outrageous price.

However, while transporting the captives, the slaver’s caravan ran afoul of a powerful B-rank beast—or rather, the caravan had crossed the path of the enraged monster. It utterly annihilated the convoy of six wagons and twenty armed riders with ease.

Most of the slaves and guards were killed in the initial attack. Only a handful survived, including Novarian, who that day came to understand true terror.

But just before his inevitable death, a gallant figure appeared and saved him.

The man wore a resplendent sky-blue noble outfit, unlike anything a poor village boy like Novarian had ever seen. Without hesitation, the man engaged the monster in combat. After a harrowing hour-long battle, he managed to kill the beast. Though gravely wounded, he remained standing with the poise of a king leading an unbreakable army.

That sight, the aura, the gaze, the voice full of strength and kindness, left a permanent mark on Novarian’s soul. It became an unforgettable memory.

Amid the chaos, young Novarian had asked the man a question that made him laugh:

"Why did you help me?"

It was an honest question. Novarian had been called cursed his whole life—nicknamed "Coal Ember"—his past messy, his appearance strange. What he showed the world was not who he truly was.

The man’s answer was equally strange, yet unforgettable:

"I am a noble. Nobles are supposed to help people. That is our duty."

Those words rooted themselves in Novarian’s heart. From that moment, he deeply admired nobles and aspired to become one.

Unfortunately, he had lived his entire life in an isolated village and only left it a month ago. Most of that time was spent alone in the forest, slaying beasts. He knew nothing of the **true nature of nobility**—that they were, in fact, scum. In the original story, he learned this harsh truth from the real Arvan, and in the cruelest way possible.

That naïveté, hidden beneath his strength, was what Arthur aimed to exploit now.

In that moment, Novarian felt a strange familiarity from the young man before him, but didn’t dwell on it. He readied himself to fight at full force. But before he could strike, the noble suddenly veered away, clearly trying to avoid dragging him into danger.

It was a kind, considerate gesture—but one that annoyed Novarian.

’Dammit, why’d he do that?!’

He cursed inwardly when he saw the noble stumble after changing direction. The beasts quickly closed in.

In a desperate attempt to intervene, Novarian used Explosive Step, instantly closing a 20-meter gap. But it wasn’t enough.

His eyes widened as a D-rank beast lunged toward the noble, who only emanated the presence of an E-rank fighter.

"Tsk."

He clicked his tongue and grimaced at what he believed would be the noble’s tragic fate. Most of his ranged skills weren’t accurate enough to safely strike the beasts surrounding the mysterious man.