Mastermind
Copyright© 2026 by FantasyTranslater
Chapter 23
The cold northern lands, a place where no living being should be able to survive, was gripped by an unrelenting, life-draining frost.
In this bleak, cursed land, painted eternally in shades of gray by the relentless blizzard, a man had fallen.
Where his right arm should have been, a crimson stain of blood marked the spot, and his left eye socket lay empty.
This man was none other than one of the eight barbarian chieftains, the great Khlkan, now awaiting death after his defeat at the hands of the cowardly knights of Caliban.
Yet even in his final moments, his eyes were filled with rage.
“Those dishonorable dogs...!” he cursed, but not because of his defeat.
To the barbarians, death in battle was a glorious end, a noble fate.
Khlkan’s fury stemmed from the dishonorable way he was struck down—caught in an ambush, tricked by the knight’s deceitful challenge to a duel.
“Cough!” Blood spilled from Khlkan’s mouth as his world grew dim.
The gray landscape blurred, and his ears gradually stopped hearing the bitter winds.
Despite his anger, his mind slowly began to sink into darkness.
Just as everything was about to fade into nothingness, Khlkan whispered the name of the great god, “Ulthultus...?”
At that very moment, time seemed to stop.
The dim, fading vision cleared; the harsh northern wind blew in his ears once again, and his mind, slipping into unconsciousness, began to rise.
[Child of blood, ] a voice echoed.
[Call my name. Call upon the great name that you worshipped. Call upon my name, and I shall grant you what you desire.]
As if commanded by a divine force, Khlkan, entranced, murmured, “Ulthultus...”
And in that moment, the god smiled.
[Somehow, I Became the Hidden Mastermind of Asteria After Waking Up, ] After hearing something that seemed to fit such a title, Alon closed his gaping mouth and mumbled to himself. However, the sweetness he had felt just moments before was completely gone.
“What kind of nonsense is this?”
A flurry of question marks swirled in Alon’s mind as he tried to comprehend the rumors he had just heard.
It made no sense to him.
If he had been associating closely with Duke Altia or Count Zenonia, both of whom were currently forming new factions, he might have understood the basis for such rumors.
However, the issue was that Alon had never once met either of the two nobles.
He had only seen Duke Altia once when she was still a young lady at a ball, and as for Lady Zenonia, he had encountered her but had never met the Count himself.
In other words, the rumor lacked plausibility, to the point of being entirely baseless.
Alon, who had been slowly moving his lips while deep in thought, soon concluded that the notion of him exchanging secret talks with other nobles was nothing more than an absurd, groundless rumor.
After all, suspicions could only arise if there was a pre-existing relationship. But since Alon had no connection whatsoever with those individuals, he didn’t even feel the need to entertain any doubt.
So, just as Alon reached for a cookie next to the egg tart, a voice called out.
“Count Palatio.”
“...?”
Alon turned his head toward the voice and looked beside him.
There stood a man dressed in expensive clothing, his face full of mockery.
‘Who is this guy?’
Alon briefly scanned the man.
With his long, curly hair draped to one side, it was easy to tell that the man’s character was twisted in a way that was different from the Palatio family, but Alon couldn’t gather any more information than that.
At the very least, Alon had no information on him in his mind.
“Oh, I haven’t introduced myself. I am Carmine, the third son of Duke Komalon of the Ashtalon Kingdom.”
As soon as he noticed Alon didn’t recognize him, Carmine’s expression briefly faltered before he introduced himself. Alon paused in confusion, then nodded in understanding.
After all, he had heard that foreign nobles occasionally visited the Grand Church where most of Asteria’s nobility gathered.
“Count Palatio,” Alon responded with a polite greeting.
“I’ve heard of you. You were fortunate enough to become a count, weren’t you?”
“...?”
Alon blinked in surprise at Carmine’s immediate mocking tone.
He had suspected from the start that this wasn’t a friendly encounter based on the man’s demeanor, but he hadn’t expected him to launch straight into open ridicule, as if he had no sense of tact or intelligence.
Just as Alon was processing this, another voice interrupted from a different direction.
“Excuse me, but what are you saying right now?”
Turning toward the new voice, Alon found a familiar face, unlike with Carmine.
‘ ... Marquis Mardinyo?’
Alon recognized him not by his face but by the emblem emblazoned on his chest, and the fact that he had the distinct appearance of a middle-aged man.
“Are you insulting a noble of the Asteria Kingdom right now?”
“...?”
Alon’s face showed bewilderment at this sudden and unexpected defense.
Carmine, the third son of Duke Komalon of the Ashtalon Kingdom, was not in a particularly good mood that day.
There were many reasons for his foul mood, but the biggest one was that the marriage proposal with the fifth daughter of Duke Lotegre, which he had worked hard to arrange, wasn’t going well.
Of course, the reason the proposal fell apart was purely due to Carmine’s childish behavior and antics that made him appear immature.
He had made the foolish mistake of evaluating the appearance of other noblewomen in front of the fifth daughter herself.
As expected of a spoiled child raised without discipline, instead of acknowledging his mistake, Carmine became even more displeased when the lady suggested reconsidering the proposal.
If this had not been the Kingdom of Asteria, a close ally, or if it hadn’t been Duke Lotegre, with whom numerous secret dealings were being conducted, Carmine would have already flipped the situation upside down.
Of course, on the flip side, Carmine had no idea that the only reason Duke Lotegre was turning a blind eye to his behavior was because of the very secretive relationship he had with Duke Komalon.
In any case, with his mood soured, Carmine had come to the ball, hoping to lift his spirits, when he spotted Count Palatio and decided to pick a fight.
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