SLSL 129

Chapter – 129 …

“Why is Grandma bedridden because of me?”

“You really don’t know anything, do you? Well, I suppose. How could someone like you know anything.”

Medeia gave him a cold smile.

“What… what are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? Ha!”

Medeia spoke as if she was too exasperated to even believe him.

“You were sucking up the life-force of an elder with not long left to live, and you dare ask that?”

“What do you mean…?”

“You’re really shameless. Do you actually think it makes sense that you received baptism for an entire month and didn’t realize it?”

“Baptism…?”

“Don’t tell me a weakling like you could withstand my aunt’s training without baptism—”

“Wait.”

Carlyle cut her off, as if something clicked in his mind.

“By ‘baptism’… you mean Sigmund’s baptism?”

When Carlyle recalled what [Baptism] meant, his expression hardened.

“You really are incredible.”

Clap, clap, clap—Medeia even applauded mockingly.

“You disgusting brat. Pretending you had no idea at this point?”

“…”

Carlyle didn’t bother replying.

Grandma gave me baptism? I didn’t notice at all…

It was natural that he hadn’t realized.

Gorbad only performed the baptism when Carlyle was unconscious.

So that’s why I recovered so fast…

Carlyle finally realized why his recovery rate had skyrocketed.

At first, healing even a minor cut was difficult. Later, he had his carotid artery sliced open and still regenerated without issue—
well, he would have fainted within seconds if he hadn’t held on mentally, and died from blood loss eventually, but still.

Thinking about it now, even my mana capacity increased unnaturally. And learning Sigmund’s Breath was way too easy. So that was all thanks to the baptism Grandma gave me…?

He finally understood that all the explosive growth he experienced over the past month was entirely thanks to Gorbad’s support.

But performing baptism puts enormous strain on the caster… Grandma!

Just as Carlyle urgently moved to leave—

“Where do you think you’re going.”

Crack!

Medeia’s heir sword, Doleur, slammed into the stone floor, carving a deep scar.

The heir sword, shaped like a whip, meant Pain in an ancient tongue.

“Shameless of you to act like you can come and go as you please.”

“Move.”

“I can’t do that. Do you know who made my aunt collapse? Hoho.”

“You’re making this difficult.”

“And what will you do if it is? Do you dare oppose your aunt?”

Medeia spoke arrogantly—
and she had every reason to.

She had once competed with Archduke Guntram for the position of family head.

Her martial prowess was among the top five in the Sigmund family.

To Carlyle, who had barely become a hatchling Sigmund, she was an overwhelming opponent.

That didn’t mean Carlyle would back down.

Sensing his intent, the baby dragon whispered nervously.

“B-but Butler?”

“What.”

“That woman looks super strong, are you sure? You’ll die.”

“If she wants to kill me, she can try.”

Carlyle snorted and stepped forward.

“A grandson is trying to see his grandmother. Who are you to block me?”

“Who…?”

“Move.”

Carlyle placed his hand on the hilt of Grimungand.

It meant he would cut her down if he had to—
even if she was someone he had no business fighting.

“Oh my.”

Medeia chuckled approvingly.

“So you’ve finally grown some fighting spirit? After cutting down a few pathetic barbarians at the front?”

“I told you to move.”

Just then—

“What’s all this noise.”

The door opened, and Gorbad appeared.

“You brats dare make a ruckus in front of an elder’s home.”

“Grandma!”

Carlyle rushed to her, checking her condition—

And then he let out a gasp.

“…Ah.”

In just one night, Gorbad’s condition had deteriorated drastically.

* * *

Gorbad, despite her age, had always been remarkably robust.

Even nearing a hundred years old, she looked far too youthful. As a Sigmund, her posture remained straight and her strength overwhelming.

But overnight, she had withered—
now looking unmistakably like someone with not much time left.

“Grandma, are you alright?”

“Of course I’m alright.”

Gorbad answered curtly.

“Don’t make a fuss. It doesn’t suit you.”

“But…”

“Enough. I said I’m fine.”

She glared sharply, as if to tell him not to say nonsense.

“Why are you saying things that worry the boy?”

“When did I ever say anything unnecessary?”

Medeia retorted indignantly.

“Aren’t you bedridden because you gave him baptism?”

“I chose to do that. What business is it of yours?”

“How is it not my business? You’re my aunt!”

“When did you ever treat me like one?”

Judging by their exchange, their relationship had never been good.

“That’s hurtful, you know.”

“Hurtful? Click, click, click.”

Gorbad snorted.

“You’re upset that I gave the boy baptism, aren’t you?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Oh really? You were the one trying to convince me that giving baptism to your sons was a better use of my energy.”

“T-that was…”

“So desperate to wring out your old aunt to make your sons prosper—is that it?”

“…”

Medeia shut her mouth tightly.

“If you wanted baptism so badly, you should’ve said so. I would’ve yielded.”

“You insolent brat—!”

“Click, click. It’s not something you can just ‘yield’. Baptism must be given to someone worth giving it to. Why would I grant it to brats with no potential?”

“A-Aunt!”

“Knowing your place is a skill too. Tsk.”

Gorbad sighed in disappointment.

“Before desiring baptism, reflect on your sons’ character and talent.”

“Are you saying my sons are worse than that good-for-nothing brat?!”

“Tsk. Even a hedgehog thinks its young are cute. Is that what becoming a parent does? I don’t understand. You used to be bright and talented as a child—how did you become so blind?”

“That’s too far.”

Medeia’s voice turned icy.

“I’ll be going now, Aunt. Take care of your health.”

With that, she disappeared.

As expected of an elder… her judgment of people is terrifyingly accurate.

Carlyle admired Gorbad’s insight.

Medeia’s sons—Hector and Gunther—
were deeply problematic.

Not in the same “public menace” way Carlyle von Sigmund was rumored to be—
but because they were cruel, arrogant, and cunning by nature.

In the game Overlord, as Frey von Sigmund, even slight hardships made the two brothers rebel or defect to another house—
walking time bombs.

Some players would simply send them to battle and let them die early as expendables,
or even execute them outright.

Although… maybe she doesn’t see that well, considering she gave baptism to me.

As Carlyle pondered that—

“Urgh…”

Gorbad staggered from dizziness.

“Grandma!”

“No.”

Leaning on her cane, she waved a hand dismissively.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“But—”

“Enough. I said don’t.”

Even in her weakened state, she refused help with iron will.

“Don’t meddle pointlessly. I am Gorbad von Sigmund. The barbarians beyond the border still tremble at my name.”

“I know, but…”

Carlyle nodded.

Gorbad had once been known as the Red Nightmare, a slaughterer of countless barbarians.

“But you’re still old. You have to admit it. You’re not immortal.”

“You brat—?!”

“Let’s go.”

Carlyle gently supported her and held her hand.

“Let go! I said let go!”

“Stop whining. You’re not a kid.”

“I said LET GO!”

“Careful. If you fall, you’re done for. Bones don’t heal at your age.”

“Nonsense! I’m still strong! I could go to the front right now and cut down hundreds of barbarians!”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go inside.”

He guided her into the house.

* * *

Though she claimed she was fine, her condition was poor.

After one month of giving Carlyle baptism, her life-force, mana, and vitality were severely depleted.
Recovery would take time.

“You’re of advanced age, you shouldn’t have pushed yourself so hard. You must rest. Absolutely no strain.”

Draven, a Sigmund family retainer, examined her and spoke gravely.

He was a former commander of the Medical Knights—
a hero who saved countless lives on the battlefield,
and the most skilled physician in Dekaron.

“I get it. Stop nagging. It’s just a few days of rest.”

“You know very well it’s not ‘just that’. Your lifespan has likely shortened by several years. The only reason you’re even conscious is because you’re you.”

Draven sighed.

“Stop spouting nonsense in front of the boy. Get out.”

“…Haa.”

He exhaled sharply and stood.

“I’ll return tomorrow. Don’t forget to take your medications and potions every hour.”

“I said I get it.”

“Yes. Rest well.”

Draven left, shaking his head.

“Doctors do nothing but nag. Noisy bunch.”

Gorbad grumbled.

“At least listen to them. They’re saying it for your sake.”

“Silence! If you start nagging too, get out.”