CHAPTER 56: INTERROGATION

Novarian stared into Arthur’s calm eyes. Thanks to his skill "Lie Detection," he could tell the boy was telling the truth, or at least something close to it. And yet, something still felt wrong.

’He’s not lying, but he’s definitely hiding something... I need to find out what it is.’ Novarian understood that interrogation was a battle of minds. Quietly, he activated the skill "Absolute Presence." At once, a powerful and fearsome aura radiated from him, so intense that some nearby beasts with sharp senses fled in panic.

[Novarian has directed the skill Absolute Presence at you.]

Arthur’s body trembled violently. A primal fear gripped his soul. Before he could fully understand what was happening, Novarian’s figure began to distort. His white hair turned into blazing red flames, his smooth skin thickened into dark, blood-colored hide, and his beautiful eyes morphed into hollow pits of agony from which tortured screams echoed. Enormous horns sprouted from his skull, and his once orderly teeth transformed into jagged saws. In an instant, the beautiful prince before him had become a demon that instilled terror in the hearts, which only deepened Arthur’s own fear.

[Warning: You are under the effect of an Illusion Skill.]

[Countermeasures recommended.]

’What the hell *is* that thing?’ Despite the terror, Arthur clung to a sliver of his composure and quickly activated "Logical Analysis." But the skill seemed almost useless; he regained only a shred of clarity.

Before he could calm himself, the demonic Novarian opened his gaping maw filled with fangs and thundered in a hellish voice,

"Tell me... What is your true purpose?"

Arthur’s face twisted in distress. Trembling, he began to stammer,

" I... I... all I wanted..."

He tried to shut his mouth, but he couldn’t keep it closed.

Once again, the demonic figure roared,

"Answer me—now!"

Despite the terrifying scene playing out before Arthur’s eyes, in reality, Novarian stood calmly with a faint, satisfied smile on his lips. Truth be told, he rather enjoyed scaring annoying people with his illusion skill.

He watched Arthur shaking with fear, sweating profusely, and incapable of speaking. With a trace of sarcasm, he thought:

’Let’s see how long you can hold out.’

"Enough stammering. Speak," he said, amplifying his voice until it cracked like thunder.

Arthur nearly jumped back. He clutched his head and covered his ears.

" I... I... you..."

He continued to stammer incoherently—until he suddenly stopped. His body ceased trembling. His eyes regained their calm, and with chilling clarity, he spoke:

"Nice try. But I’m not falling for your little trick."

[Illusion Skill has been dispelled.]

[Absolute Presence has been partially suppressed.]

Though it had taken all his willpower just to keep his mouth shut, Arthur had finally broken free.

"What?" The shock made Novarian say the word aloud. His brows furrowed. He wanted to reply but couldn’t find the words. Only one thought echoed through his mind:

’Did he just... break free of my skills?’

He couldn’t accept it—not out of arrogance, but because it was impossible.

No one at Rank E should be able to break through Rank C skills that quickly, even with strong mental abilities.

’Is his level fake? Or maybe he’s wearing a mental-type magical artifact ? No... he really is Rank E, and he’s not wearing any artifacts. I don’t get it.’

Despite the horrific experience just moments ago, Arthur now stood calmly, with nothing unusual on his face. In truth, he was very pleased to see Novarian puzzled.

’Good thing I hid the Bracelet in the dimensional box earlier. If I hadn’t, everything would’ve fallen apart. His perception is just as sharp as I expected... and he’s every bit as decisive as the records described. Though still not decisive enough.’

’No more stalling. I’ve got half an hour at most—I need to wrap this up.’

"Ahem. I respected you a great deal," Arthur said calmly, shaking his head with genuine disappointment. "But what you just did changed that. Why are you doing this? I already told you the truth."

His feelings were genuine, and Novarian knew it. That sincerity unsettled him slightly.

But he didn’t show any weakness. Or rather, not enough for a change of heart. He replied coolly,

"You’re planning something. Yes, you told the truth, but not the whole truth."

Arthur nodded in understanding and gave a faint smile.

"That’s fair. Honestly, no one in this world walks around without some hidden agenda, including you. And really, why do you even care what mine is? I don’t intend to harm you, and you know that. So don’t worry."

’He’s not lying. And yet...’ Novarian mulled it over for a moment before replying,

"No. You’re wrong, and it’s concerning me in some way."

’As expected... I got his attention,’ Arthur thought with satisfaction.

The bit with the beasts hadn’t been a cheap scare tactic. It served a deeper purpose.

In the first volume of Rise of the Sword Sovereign, when Novarian took the ring from the woman who raised him, he discovered it held a terrifying power: the ability to steal the skills and strength of any living creature he kills, beast or human. That’s why, despite his weakness, he often ventured deep into monster territory, risking his life to grow stronger.

At first, he nearly died multiple times. But his power surged rapidly, and his hunts grew easier. Then, one day, his village was attacked unexpectedly by a small army of a hundred goblins, ten of them Rank D, led by a Rank D goblin shaman.

Caught off guard, the village suffered heavy losses. Their remote home had no strong fighters, and the local baron’s castle was too far away to offer help. They were just isolated, weak humans—helpless prey for deadly monsters.

Amid their despair, the person they’d always scorned saved them: Novarian. Tragically, he was still too weak and nearly died facing the shaman and the D-rank goblins.

But he won.

His heroism was unbelievable. The villagers cried tears of regret for how they’d treated him. The next morning, they lined up outside his home, heads bowed in shame, and apologized.

Novarian couldn’t bring himself to forgive them easily. Nor could the woman who raised him. She lashed out, scolding and cursing them to vent years of pent-up frustration. Yet, in the end, she forgave them.

Things got a bit better after that. A week later, Novarian left, eager to grow stronger and explore the world. He feared the woman who raised him—his mother—would object. But she didn’t. She said she’d expected it and wished him well, hugging him tight and asking him never to forget her.

She said she would always wait for him. That she would always love him.

And he told her that she was his mother. That she always would be, even if he ever found the woman who gave birth to him.

The memories passed swiftly through Novarian’s mind, and a hint of sorrow touched him. His thoughts were still partly with his mother. But this wasn’t the time for sentimentality. He tightened his expression and asked firmly:

"That masked man—who is he? And do you know his goal?"